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VOL. 111. JANUARY-JUNE, 1904 


Abbot, Willis J., The Democratic Problem, 3. 

Abbott, C. Yarnall, French Sculpture of Today, 
41; Photographic Portraiture — The New 
American School, KJ'J. 

Acland, F. A., Joseph Chamberlain — The Man 
and the Statesman, 21. 

Alexander, John White — An American Por- 
traitist of Distinction, 473. 

America's Opportunity in the East, Harold 
Bolce, 2S7. 

Art (see Pictures and Art Talk). 

Bacon, N. T., A Question of Staying Power 
— The Comparative Resources of Russia 
and Japan, 743. 

Bain, H. Foster, Our National Survey — The 
Romance of Scientific Pioneering, 201. 

Barker, Albert Winslow, A Leader of Amer- 
ican Impressionism, 749; The Mountains, 

Best New Things from the World of Print, 
The, 119-144, 257-284, 407-432. 555-576, 
697-720, 841-864. 

Bitter, Karl, A Master of Decorative Sculpture, 
J. N. Laurvik, 599. 

Bolce, Harold, The Two Pacifies, 287, 441, 
579, 723. 

Chamberlain, Joseph — The Man and the States- 
man, F. A. Acland, 21. 
Contrary to Precedent, S. K. Glaspell, 235. 
Cooke, Edmund Vance, A Spring Poem, 674. 

Daly, Augustin — Dramatic Dictator, Deshler 
Welch, 491. 

Democratic Problem, The, W.J. Abbot, 3. 

Diaz, (see President Porfirio Diaz). 

Douglas, James, F. C. G., Cartoonist — A Re- 
markable P'orce in English Politics, 311. 

England's Moated Houses, Oscar Parker, 481. 
Esenwein, J. Berg, Japanese Caricature — An 

Imported National Humor, 657. 
Eyestrain (see Literary Geniuses and Brain- 

Exploitation of China, The, Harold Bolce, 441. 

F. C. G. Cartoonist — A Remarkable Force in 
English Politics, James Douglas, 311. 

Famous Parisian Artists in Their Studios, 327- 

Fateful Presidential Conventions, J. M. Rogers: 
I. The Division of the Democratic Party, 
1860; II. The Disintegration of Repub- 
lican Power, 1880, 355; III. Faction Par- 
alyzes the Republican Forces; IV. Radi- 
calism Captures the Democratic Party, 513. 

Fenelon — A Benevolent Strategist, A. E'. Han- 
cock, 65. 

Fielding, Howard, The Managing Committee, 

French Sculpture of Today, C. Y. Abbott, 41. 

Glaspell, Susan Keating, Contrarvto Precedent, 

Gould, Francis Carruthers (see F. C. G., Car- 

Gould, George, M., Literary Geniuses and 
Brain-Fag — Some Facts about Eyestrain, 

Greatest Locomotive Works in the World, The, 
J. M. Rogers, 69. 

Hancock, Albert Elmer, Fenelon — A Benevo- 
lent Strategist, 65. 

How a Newspaper Syndicate Works, By an 
Ex-Syndicator, 789. 

If Japan Should Win, Harold Bolce, 579. 
Imperial Wraith, An, Clara Morris, 219. 

Japan and Russia — Comparative Resources of 

(see A Question of Staying Power). 
Japan's New Gospel of Civilization, Harold 

Bolce, 723. 
Japanese Caricature — An Imported National 

Humor, J. Berg Esenwein, 657. 
Johnson, Clifton, Round about Old Jamestown, 


Kobbe, Gustav, Wagner and His Music- 
Dramas, 191. 

Laurvik, John Nilsen, Karl Bitter — A Master 
of Decorative Sculpture, 599. 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 

Leader in American Impressionism, A, A. W. 

Barker, 74i). 
" Lector," ReHections of the Strenuous Life on 

Sea and Plain, S9 ; The Modern Short 

Story, 525. 
Literary Geniuses and Brain- Fag — Some Facts 

aliout Lyestrain, G. M. Gould, (jG'J. 
Literary Studies: "Lector," on Stories of Sea 

and Plain, 8'J ; The Modern Short Story, 

Locomotive Works, The Greatest in the World, 

J. M. Rogers, (i9. 

McGrath, P. T., Old France in the New 

World — The Last Remnant of a Great 

Empire, 775. 
Managing Committee, The, Howard Fielding, 

Mark I'wain— Made in America, T. M. Par- 

rott, 145. 
Menpes, Mortimer — Coiorist, Dorothy Menpes, 

Mexico (see President Porfirio Diaz). 
Moated Houses, England's, Oscar Parker, 48L 
Modern Short Story, The— A Glance at Some 

Recent Collections, " Lector," 525. 
Morris, Clara, An Imperial Wraith, 219. 
Morris, George Perry, The Old Guard of New 

England — Their Outlook on Twentieth 

Century Problems, 343. 
Mountains, The, A. W. Barker, 820. 

Newspaper Syndicate (see How a Newspaper 
Syndicate Works ). 

Old France in the New World— The Last Rem- 
nant of a Great Empire, P. T. McGrath, 

Old Guard of New England, The — Their Out- 
look on Twentieth Century Problems, G. 
P. Morris, 343. 

Orange Culture in California, Allan Suther- 
land, 803. 

Our National Survey — Ihe Romance of Scien- 
tific Pioneering, H. F. Bain, 201. 

Pacifies (see Two Pacifies) . 

Packard, Winthrop, Stewards of an Ocean 
Liner — Above and Below Decks, (537. 

Panama, What We are Buying at, F. il. 
Taylor, 227. 

Parker, Oscar, England's Moated Houses, 481. 

Parrott, T. M., Mark Twain— Made in Amer- 
ica, 145. 

Phelps, William Lyon, What Russian Chil- 
dren are Reading, 761. 

Photographic Portraiture — The New American 
School, C. V. Abbott, l(i9. 

Piciurcsand Art Talk, 32-39, l(iO-l()7, 334-341, 
4(i3-471, (i()7-»il5, 749-759. 

Pittsburgh, American Art at, 4()3. 

Presiiient Porfirio Diaz — The Benevolent Des- 
pot of Mexico, F. H. Taylor, 763. 

Princess Rosalba, The, Virginia Tracy, 531. 
Protection Policy in England, The — Would It 
Hurt Us ? Taleott Williams, 155. 

Quay, Matthew Stanley— A Character Sketch, 
J. M. Rogers, 617. 

Question of Staying Power. A— The Compara- 
tive Resources of Russia and Japan, N. T. 
Bacon, 743. 

Railway Wrecks (see " Way for the Breakdown 

Reflections of the Strenuous Life on Sea and 
Plain, " Lector," 89. 

Resources of Russia and Japan (see A Question 
of Staying Power). 

Revival of an Ancient Art, The— Modern 
Stained Glass Work, 184. 

Rogers, Joseph M., The Greatest Locomotive 
Works in the World, 69; Fateful Presi- 
dential Conventions, 355, 513 ; Matthew 
Stanley Quay — A Character Sketch, 617. 

Round about Old Jamestown, Clifton Johnson, 

Russian Children (see What Russian Children 
are Reading). 

Sholl, Anna McClure, Whatsoever a Woman 
Soweth, 379. 

/6,000 in " Swedes," T. R. Sullivan, 821. 

Spring Poem, A, E. V. Cooke, 674. 

St. Pierre (see Old France in the New World). 

Stewards of an Ocean Liner — Above and Below 
Decks, Winthrop Packard, 637. 

Stories. The Window tiiat Monsieur Forgot, 
M. I. Taylor, 95; Contrary to Precedent, 
S. K. Glaspell, 235; Whatsoever a Woman 
Soweth, A. McC. Sholl, 379; The Princess 
Rosalba, \irginia Tracy, 531; 'The Man- 
aging Committee, Howard Fielding 675; 
/6,000 in " Swedes," T. R. Sullivan, 821. 

Sullivan, Thomas Russell, /6, 000 in"Swedes," 

Survey, Our National— The Romance of Scien- 
tific Pioneering, H. F. Bain, 202. 

Sutherland, Allan, Orange Culture in Cali- 
fornia, 803. 

Tarbell, Edmund C. (see A Leader of Ameri- 
can Impressionism). 

Taylor, Frank H., What We are Buying at 
Panama, 227; Presiiient Porfirio Diaz — The 
Benevolent Despot of Mexico, 763. 

'Taylor, Mary Imlay, 'The Window that Mon- 
sieur Forgot, 95. 

Tracy, Virginia, The Princess Rosalba, 531. 

Twain (see Mark Twain). 

Two Pacifies, The, Harold Bolce : I. Amer- 
ica's Opportunity in the East, 287; II. The 
Exploitation of China, 441; III. If Japan 
Should Win, 579 ; I\'. Japan's New Gospel 
of Civilization, 723. 

The Booklovers Magazine 

Wagner and His Music-Dramas, Giistav 
Kobbe, 191. 

"Wayforthe Breakdown Gang" — How Rail- 
way Wrecks are Handled, D. A. Willey, 

Welch, Deshier, Augustin Dajy — Dramatic 
Dictator, 491. 

What is Really at Stake in Asia, Talcott 
Williams, 435. 

What Russian Children are Reading, W. L. 
Phelps, 761. 

What We are Buying at Panama, F. H. 'ra\ - 
lor, 227. 

Whatsoever a Woman Soweth, A. McC. Sholl, 

Willey, D. A., "Way for the Breakdown 
Gang " — How Railway Wrecks are Han- 
dled, 663. 

Williams, Talcott, The Protection Policy in 
England— Would It Hurt Us? 155; What 
is Really at Stake in Asia, 435. 

Window that Monsieur Forgot, The, M. I. 
Taylor, 95. 


Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 347. 
Alexander, John W., 464. 

Barrias, Louis Ernest, 46, 332. 

Benjamin-Constant, Jean Joseph, 329. 

Besnard, A., 178. 

Bispham, David, 192. 

Bitter, Karl, 604. 

Blaine, J. G., 366; caricatures, 367, 512. 

Bonaparte, Charles J., 132. 

Bonaparte, Napoleon III, 220, 225; The 

Prince Imperial, 225. 
Bouguereau, William Adolphe, 328. 
Bryan, William Jennings, 11. 

Cameron, James Donald, 363. 

Caruso, Enrico, caricature, 428. 

Cassini, Count, 709. 

Chamberlain, J. Austen, 31. 

Chamberlain, Joseph, 20 ; caricatures, 138- 

140, 158, 313-325. 
Chamberlain, Mrs. Joseph, 23. 
Chartran, Theobold, 179. 
Clemens, Samuel L. (Mark Twain), 144. 
Cleveland, Grover, 2. 
Conkling, Roscoe, 363. 
Cortelyou, George Bruce, 844. 
Crosman, Henrietta, 500. 

Dabney, Charles William, 801. 

Daly, Augustin, 490 ; with his Company, 498. 

Davis, Jefferson, 357. 

De Reszke, Jean, 192. 

Del Val, Cardinal Rafael Merry, 258. 

Diaz, Porfirio, 762. 

Douglas, Stephen A., 358. 

Eames, Emma, 193. 
Ericson, David, 464. 
Eugenie, 218, 226. 

Faunce, William H. P., 800. 
Fenelon (in color, from Champaigne's paint- 
ing), 64. 
Finley, John Huston, 795. 
Folk, Joseph Wingate, 5. 
Fremiet, Emmanuel, 333. 

Gadski, Johanna, 193. 

Garfield, J. A., 368. 

Gerome, Jean Leon, 330. 

Gilbert, Mrs. G. H., 497. 

Gillespie, Mrs. E. D., 181. 

Cjissing, George, 421. 

Cjorman, Arthur Pue, 10. 

Gould, Francis Carruthers, 310, 326. 

Grant, U. S., 365. 

Gray, George, 17. 

Hale, Edward Everett, 353. 

Hanna, Marcus Alonzo, 560. 

Harland, Henry, 419. 

Harrison, Benjamin, caricatures, 515, 517. 

Harrison, Carter Henry, 9. 

Hassam, Childe, 463. 

Hearst, William Randolph, 12. 

Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, 347. 

Hill, David Bennett, 15. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 351. 

Howe, Julia Ward, 345. 

Huntington, Father, 168. 

Hyde, William De Witt, 798. 

James, Edmund J., 796. 
Johnson, Tom Loftin, 6. 
Jones, Samuel Milton, 18. 

Kraus, Ernest, 192. 

Lewis, James, 497, 500. 
Liang-Cheng, Sir Chen Tung, 846. 
Limantour, Jose Ives, 772. 

McClellan, George Brinton, 17. 

McCutcheon, George Barr, caricature, 701. 

Menpes, Mortimer, 56. 

Mommsen, Theodore, 131. 

Morris, Clara, 504. 

Moulton, Louise Chandler, 349. 

Munger, Theodore Thornton, 353. 

Nordica, Lillian, 193. 
Norfolk, Duke of, 703. 
Norton, Charles Eliot, 348. 

Ochtman, Leonard, 463. 
Olney, Richard, 16. 

Parker, Alton Brooks, 16. 
Patton, Francis Landey, 476. 
Pope Pius X, 425. 
Powell, Major J. W., 212. 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 

Pritrhett, Henry Smith, 7!J7. 
Puecli, Denys, 54. 

Contrary to Precedent (storj.), 4 illustrations, 

Quay. Matthew Stanley, 619 ; caricatures. 623- ^'^^? °' Conviction? Goldsborough-Anderson 


Ramsay, Sir William, 267. 

Rehan, Ada, 493, 495, 500. 

Riley, James Whitcomb, caricature, 700. 

Rodin, 172. 

Sanborn, Franklin Benjamin, 348. 

Schurz, Carl, 275. 

Shaw, George Bernard, caricature, 408. 

Takahira, Kogoro, 851. 
Tarbell, Edmund C, 750. 
Tarkington, Newton Booth, caricature, 701. 
Thwing, Charles Franklin, 799. 
Train, George Francis, 430. 
Trowbridge, John Townsend, 349. 
Twain, Mark (S. L.Clemens), 144; caricature 

Van Dyck, Ernest, 192. 
Verestchagin, Vassili, 840. 

Wagner, Richard, portrait and caricatures, 190 

Walcotl, Charles O., 215. 
Wallace, Lew, caricature, 700. 
Weeks, Edwin Lord, 331. 
Wheeler, Benjamin Ide, 794. 
Willet, William, 188. 
Williams, John Sharp, 409. 

Yancey, William L., 360. 

Zangwill, Israel, caricature, 427. 


Aleutian Islanders Hearing a Phonograph, 574. 
Aleutian Pickaninnies, 849. 
Alexander, Autumn, 472. 

Alexander, John White, 6 examples of portrait- 
ure, 473-479. 
All Saints' Day, Friant, 341. 
Artist's Daughter, The, Feddersen, 335. 
Automatic Drawings, 414. 
Autumn, Alexander, 472. 

Barker, The Mountains, 820. 

Benedicite, CJay, 37. 

Bessemer Converter in Full Blast, 271. 

Bitter, Karl, 7 pictures, 599-606. 

Boulaye, The Sermon, 39. 

Breslau, The Sisters, 164. 

Catechism, The, Muenier, 162. 
Chamberlain, Joseph, portraits and 3 pictures 

Chaplin, Tne Juene Fille, r)09. 
Chinese Minister in Automobile, 706. 
Commerce and Sea Power, Wyllie, 615. 
Condottiere, A, Leighton, 611. 


De Camp, The Sea Wall — September, 469. 
De Souza-Pinto, Pommes de Terre, 165. 
Diaz, President Porfirio, portraits, map, and 

pictures, 762-773. 
Donvig's Life-Saving Globe, 852-853. 
Dutch Nobleman, A, and Son, Van Dyck, 36. 

Ericson, Pont Aven, 471. 

England's Moated Houses, 10 drawings by 

Railton, 480-489. 
Falstaff, Sir John, Griitzner, 613. 
Feddersen, The Artist's Daughter, 335. 
Flower Maidens, The, Rhead, 649-655. 
French Sculpture of Today, portraits and 11 

pictures, 40-55. 
Friant, All Saints' Day, 341. 

Gay, Benedicite, 37. 

Geoffroy, Visiting Day at the Hospital, 161. 
Girl with a Dog, A, Tarbell, 753. 
Goldsborough-Anderson , Creed or Conviction ? 

Gould, F. Carruthers ( F. C. G., Cartoonist), 

2 portraits and 18 cartoons, 310-326. 
Greatest Locomotive Works in the World, 

The, 15 pictures and diagrams, 68-88. 
Griitzner, Sir John Falstatf, 613. 
Gulliver and the Lilliputians, Vibert, 339. 

Hassam, The Jonquils, 465. 
Heathfield, Lord, Reynolds, 38. 
Hennessey, Spring and Autumn, 167. 

Ideal City, Hexagonal Plan for, 859 
Illumination of American Warships at Hono- 
lulu, 699. 
In the Orchard, Tarbell, 757. 
Inness, Landscape, 337. 
Is the Grand Stand Safe ? 437. 

Jamestown, Round about Old, 7 pictures, 370- 

Japanese Caricature, 4 examples, 656-661. 
Jonquils, The, Hassam, 4()5. 

Landscape, Inness, 337. 

Largest Photograph in the World, 283. 

Leighton, A Condottiere, 611. 

May, Phil, Whitechapel, 125. 

Meissonier, Flie Musketeer, 33. 

Melchcrs, Motherhood, Kili. 

Mcnpes, Mortimer, portrait and 4 pictures, 

Motherhood, Melchers, 166. 
Mountains, The, Barker, 820. 

The Booklovers Magazine 

Muenier, The Catechism, 162. 
Musketeer, The, Meissonier, 33. 

Ochtman, Wooded Acres, 467. 

Old France in the New World (St. Pierre), 
map and 10 pictures, 774-788. 

Omar Khayyam Cult to Date, The, 843. 

Orange Culture in California, map and 8 pic- 
tures, 802-811. 

Our National Survey, portraits, maps, and 12 
pictures, 200-217. 

Out-of-Door Girl, I'he, Weiderseim, 3 pictures, 

Photographic Portraiture, 12 pictures, 169-183. 
Pommes de Terre, De Souza-Pinto, 165. 
Pont Aven, Ericson, 471. 

Presidential Conventions, Fateful, portraits and 
5 pictures, 355-369; 7 pictures, 512-524. 

Quay, Matthew Stanley, portrait and 9 pictures, 

Rafting on the Columbia, 562. 

Railway Wrecks, How Handled, 5 pictures, 

" Raising a Full House," 860. 
Reading at the Window, Tarbell, 759. 
Reynolds, Lord Heathfield, 38. 
Rhead, Louis, The Nasturtium Maiden, 649; 

The Rose Maiden, 651 ; The Clematis 

Maiden, 653; The Chrysanthemum Maiden, 


Sea Wall, The — September, De Camp, 469. 

Sermon, The, Boulaye, 39. 

Sisters, The, Breslau, 164. 

Snow Crystals, and Designs by Electricity, 

Spring and Autumn, Hennessey, 167. 
Stained Glass Work, Modern, 3 pictures, 184- 


"Steady" (erecting a steel-frame building), 

Stewards of an Ocean Liner, 10 pictures, 636- 

Street Car, Double-decker, 713. 
Symbol of American Mastery of the Pacific, A, 


Tarbell, A Girl with a Dog, 753; The Vene- 
tian Blind, 755.; In the Orchard, 757; 
Reading at the Window, 759. 

Two Pacifies, The: I. maps and 19 pictures, 
286»309 ; H. map, diagrams, and 15 pic- 
tures, 440-462 ; HI. diagram and 15 pic- 
tures, 578-598; IV. 16 pictures, 722-742. 

Uncle Sam Hemisphere, The, 712. 

Une Jeune Fille, Chaplin, 609. 

Unicycle Driven by Gasoline Motor, 863. 

Van Dyck, A Dutch Nobleman and Son, 36. 
Venetian Blind, The, Tarbell, 755. 
Venetian Senator, A, Da Solario, 34. 
Vibert, Gulliver and the Lilliputians, 339. 
Visiting Day at the Hospital, Geoffroy, 161. 

Wagner and His Music-Dramas, portraits, 

caricatures, and 4 reproductions of Fantin- 

Latour, 190-199. 
War Pictures from the Forbidden Zone, 12 

pictures, 812-819. 
Weiderseim, On the Village Road, 507; On 

the Links, 509; Ready for the Canter, 511. 
What We are Buying at Panama, maps and 

4 pictures, 227-233. 

Whitechapel — Saturday Morning, Phil May, 

Window that Monsieur Forgot, The (story), 

5 illustrations, 95-117. 
Wooded Acres, Ochtman, 467. 
Wyllie, Commerce and Sea Power, 615. 

? s==B ia; 







VOL 111 NO 1 









(iJ.J' 3/. //^3 


Sketckiii from life by f. FloyJ Catnf>hell 




In all the history' of 
American politics a politi- 
cal party has seldom been 
confronted with a situa- 
tion so puzzling as that 
in which the Democratic 
party finds itself today. 
Dissensions, personal 
enmities, and honest dififer- 
ences of opinion separate 
its members into hostile camps almost as 
far apart as in the days that immediately 
preceded the Civil War. In each camp are 
men of force and ability. In each are 
leaders who believe that if their policies 
are approved by the national convention 
there will be a fair promise of victory in 
1904. But to the candid observer, not 
blinded by ambition, and acquainted with 
the determination of the men on both 
sides of the political chasm, it would appear 
that the Democratic problem is rather to 
prepare for a creditable — though hopeless — 
contest than to seek an improbable victory 
by the abandonment of progressive and 
even radical convictions. 

It must be remembered that the present 
inharmonious situation within the Demo- 
cratic ranks is not wholly the result of the 
last two unsuccessful campaigns waged 
under the leadership of Mr. Bryan. Two 
years before the advent of Mr. Bryan as a 
commanding national figure the antago- 
nism to President Cleveland within the 
party ranks was so pronounced that in the 
Congressional elections of 1894 t^>e coun- 
try rolled up against the Democratic nomi- 
nees a majority vastly greater than that by 
which Mr. Bryan was beaten in his first 
presidential contest. It is customary for 
the opponents of Bryanism to forget this 

(Willie J. Abbot: 

fact, very much as it 
is the practice of the 
adherents of the other 
faction to ignore con- 
veniently certain current phenomena 
that show the wave of radicalism — which 
culminated at Chicago in 1896 — to be most 
emphatically on the ebb. The politician 
is quite as apt at overlooking things that 
tell against him as in laying stress on those 
that he thinks work to his good. 

In 1 896 the Democrats polled the biggest 
vote recorded in the history of the party. 
Though President Cleveland, and practi- 
cally all of his prominent associates in the 
administration, worked against Mr, Bryan, 
that candidate polled nearly a million more 
votes than had sufficed to carry Mr. Cleve- 
land into office in 1892. But this prodig- 
ious popular support was due to conditions 
which not even the most sanguine radical 
Democrat can look for again within the 
few months that elapse before the next 
presidential election. The long evasion of 
the silver question — the Republicans even 
more than the Democrats having ior years 
leaned strongly toward the double stan- 
dard — had resulted in interesting immense 
numbers of voters, allied with every party, 
in the money problem, and made it in fact 
the paramount issue of the campaign. 
Today, while the money question is vital 
— as it must always remain until there is 
some more intelligent device for securing 
a satisfactory currency system than merely 

The Booklovers Magazine 

turning it over to the bankers who can find 
profit in keeping it unsatisfactory — there is 
not the sh'ghtest probability of its coming 
up again in the form of the demand for the 
free coinage of silver. This was indeed 
apparent in the campaign of 1900. The 
platform liemand for free silver was then 
insisted upon rather as a test of the loyalty 
of delegates to the radical program than 
with any expectation that the issue itself 
would be prominent in the campaign. 
Those Western millionaires who in 1896 
figured so largely in Republican news- 
papers as constituting the " Silver-mining 
Trust" were quick to discern this fact, 
and transferred their political allegiance 
with that agility always displayed by the 
man to whom politics is only a branch 
of his business. At least two millionaires, 
who four years earlier had been among the 
heaviest contributors to the Democratic 
campaign fund, sat as delegates at large in 
the last Republican national convention ; 
while a distinguished Silver Republican 
senator from a mining State returned to 
his old-time party allegiance, and was 
rewarded by seeing himself no longer car- 
tooned as an over-bearded and over-garru- 
lous shouter for "repudiation and national 
dishonor," but rather referred to with 
proper respect as a true patriot and intelli- 
gent authority on questions relating to the 
national finances. Indeed the distinctively 
silver forces in the Democratic and allied 
parties had already begun to melt away in 
1900, and are today practically a negligible 

In 1900, also, the Populistic support, 
which four years earlier had been of such 
vital force, showed signs of ebbing in the 
face of better agricultural conditions. 
The Populist convention at Sioux Falls, 
at which Mr. Bryan and Mr. Charles A. 
Towne were nominated, was purely per- 
functory, and in the succeeih'ng election 
practically every State in which success ele- 
pended upon Populist support — if I except 
Colorado — was carried by the Republicans. 
The Mid-Road Populists showed little 
more vitality, casting in the whole country 
fewer votes than one wing of the Socialist 

party. Vast numbers of the Populists have 
indeed entered the Democratic party, and 
have tinctured with their progressive doc- 
trines its platforms in every State ; but it 
is a matter of belief with many shrewd 
observers of Western conditions that Presi- 
dent Roosevelt, with his radicalism of 
utterance if not of performance, can hold 
today a larger share of the original Populist 
vote than could any Democratic candidate, 
however radical. 

So, in reading the history of the last 
eight years, we find Mr. Bryan supported 
at first by three allied parties — Demo- 
cratic, Silver Republican, and Populist — 
then parties in fact as well as in name. 
In 1900 two of them were inere shells, 
parties in name only; in 1904 they will 
be virtually non-existent. 

The Democratic problem, then, is what 
to do to fill the places of the missing allies. 
To this there are many answers, none of 
which seems to satisfy more than a very 
small faction of a party now divided into a 
great number of factions. A very power- 
ful journalistic and financial interest in and 
about New York cries loudly : "Renomi- 
nate Mr. Cleveland ; oppose the populistic 
ideas of President Roosevelt ; make the 
campaign on the good old Democratic 
issues of tarif? reform, the gold standard, 
economy in government, anti-imperialism." 
Further to the South a distinguished Demo- 
cratic senator, who has just carried his 
own State, would make the fact that the 
President invited Booker T. Washington 
to dinner a " paramount issue." Out in 
the West Mr, Bryan and his friends are 
standing stoutly for the Kansas City plat- 
form, though it is not believed that even 
they would insist on the literal enforce- 
ment of the silver plank. In New York 
again another element, reinforced by some 
Southern sentiment, is asking the nomina- 
tion of a distinguished judge whose merit 
is that, being on the bench, he has said 
nothing that coulil give anybody an idea of 
his position on bitterly controverted ques- 
tions of economics or politics. So the 
debate rages in the press, no nearer deter- 
mination than it was a year ago. It is 


Sketched from life by V . Floyd Campbell 


Sketched from life by F. Floyd Campbell 

The Booklovers Magazine 

to be expected that duriiii^ the present 
Congress something will he done toward 
the crystallization of a party policy, 
though it is to be remembered that repre- 
sentatives in Congress are always more 
timid than the mass of the party voters, 
preferring, like all professional politicians, 
non-committal to frank expression of 
political beliefs. 

For many years the question of candi- 
dates was vastly more interesting than that 
of a party creed. Platforms were "made 
to get in on," and each party tried to get 
its own as much like that of the other as 
possible. A study of money planks of the 
two great parties, prior to the revolution 
of 1896, will convince one of the truth of 
that assertion. Hryanism changed all this 
for a time, and its influence will not have 
vanished wholly this year. But should 
there be a recurrence to the old custom 
of non-committal platforms, filled with 
"weasel words," the identity of the Demo- 
cratic nominee will still be a matter of 
great interest ; since, despite the not prom- 
ising outlook for the Democracy, there are 
men of high national standing ready to 
lead its forces. It is no purpose of mine 
to attempt the role of either a prophet or 
a champion, but merely to set down some 
considerations of each of the possible lead- 
ers, based in some cases upon personal 
acquaintance, and in all instances upon cer- 
tain special facilities for gathering political 

Most in the public eye, perhaps, is Mr. 
Bryan, whose activities have given a cer- 
tain section of the press, which his fol- 
lowers delight to term " plutocratic," 
uninterrupted opportunities to ridicule and 
denounce him. Perhaps no American 
politician has been more widely misunder- 
stood. Essentially conservative on all 
questions save that of silver, he is never- 
theless constantly described as a firebrand. 
It is probable today that he is in danger of 
losing more friends and active supporters by 
his refusal to lead, or even keep step with, 
the growing "socialist" sentiment in the 
party than he is by his most heinous crime 
of "sticking to silver." In no case a can- 

didate for renomination, Mr. Bryan will 
be in a position to influence greatly the 
action of the convention. Perhaps no 
Democrat could be elected in any event, 
but certainly none could be elected should 
Mr. Bryan and his friends oppose him at 
the polls as frankly as Mr. Cleveland, Mr. 
Carlisle, and the other administration lead- 
ers opposed the ticket of 1896. Is it pru- 
dent to expect that the heartburnings of 
that year, sufifered by followers as well as 
defeated leaders, are entirely assuaged ? It 
is this consideration, even more than the 
general sentiment against the third term, 
which justifies doubt of the wisdom of Mr. 
Cleveland's nomination. Mr. Bryan's 
public utterances leave no doubt of his 
determined hostility. Mr. Cleveland's 
spokesmen are putting him forward for 
reasons that would unite the old forces of 
Bryanism and make even Populism a 
power again. They say in effect : "Who 
could get such support from the financial 
community as he ? Who does so much to 
correct the errors of that rash young man 
in the White House who brought the 
merger suit, forced the coal strike arbitra- 
tion, unsettled Wall Street, and encour- 
aged organized labor?" Unlike his State 
in an earlier campaign, Mr. Cleveland is 
unfortunate in his friends, and his nomi- 
nation would cause Mr. Roosevelt to be 
loved for the enemies he has made. 

The politicians will say that New York 
must be carried to win ; and that is true 
for the Democratic party. The Repub- 
licans might lose it and win; and indeed, 
with the hostility of Wall Street and the 
new power of Tammany, Mr. Roosevelt 
might be beaten there where his political 
strength was never great. But to be beaten 
in New York by one believed to be the 
beneficiary of the practitioners of the haute 
finance would assure him enough States of 
the Middle West to accomplish his election. 

Are there, then, other candidates in New 
York possibly more available ? There is a 
political superstition that to carry a doubt- 
ful State in a presidential election you 
should nominate one of its citizens. New 
York politicians, therefore, are watching 

The Booklovers Magazine 

with interest the progress of the pohtical 
ambitions of three men very much in the 
public eye — Hon. David B. Hill, Hon. 
Alton B. Parker, and Hon. William R. 
Hearst. Mr. Hill is the veteran, a past 
master in politics and a man of national 
popularity — and national hatreds. Judge 
Parker is, perhaps, the more dignified fig- 
ure. Mr. Hearst, a newcomer in politics, 
excites interest rather than confidence, but 
has a record for pertinacity and success 
that would make it folly to ignore him. 
Judge Parker holds a highly honorable and 
not unprofitable positio.n as Chief Judge 
of the Court of Appeals. He is yet young, 
as public men go, and has still in this posi- 
tion some six years to serve, a term that 
will carry him past the election of 1908. 
His strength in the State was shown by 
the fact that though Roosevelt, fresh from 
the victories of Santiago, carried New York 
by only 17,000 votes, Parker within a year 
swept it by over 60, 000. For himself he 
has spoken no word to indicate his will- 
ingness to enter the national contest this 
year, his championship having originated 
in the South. He is urged, as I have 
before said, because of his "availability" — 
a word which in the mouth of the practi- 
cal politician means the lack of any record 
of any kind. Even in the last two presi- 
dential contests he has been "regular," 
having voted for Bryan and announced the 
fact publicly. But where he stands on any 
issue of those campaigns, or on direct leg- 
islation, the income tax, government by 
injunction, or even imperialism, no one 
can tell. 1 o a certain class of politicians 
this would seem to be a source of strength. 
It is in fact a fatal weakness; for the poli- 
tics of the last decade has educated the 
Democratic voters to a belief in platforms 
that say things and in men who stand for 
them. Though Mr. Bryan has refrained 
from antagonizing Judge Parker in any 
way, it is hardly likely he could hold his 
full following in line for him. Meantime, 
close friends of Judge Parker say that he 
would not think of giving up his present 
place on the bench without a united party 
behind him. 

The case of former Senator Hill is more 
problematical. He is a man with a multi- 
tude of friends, and with quite enough ene- 
mies to satisfy anybody. He has attained 
the period of life when even an unsuccess- 
ful nomination for the presidency would 
be a desirable honor. That he would still 
further alienate the Populist allies of the 
Democracy goes without saying, for he 
has bitterly denounced them and all their 
favorite dogmas. Yet among the reorgan- 
izing element in the Democratic party he 
has powerful friends, and there has long 
been an effort to remodel the national 
committee in his behalf. Could he secure 
the nomination he would prove a formida- 
ble candidate, as the South would stand 
by its old party allegiance; while his repu- 
tation for political astuteness would help 
him in the States of Illinois and Indiana, 
where politics is perhaps more of a contin- 
ual game than anywhere outside of New 
York. But he has always been singularly 
unfortunate in getting the delegation from 
his own State. The one occasion on 
which he controlled it was also the one 
occasion on which the man who did not 
have it — Grover Cleveland — was nomi- 
nated and elected. Today the vastly 
enhanced power of Tammany makes Mr. 
Hill's chances of securing his home dele- 
gation slight. Moreover, no one, unless 
it might be Mr. Cleveland himself, would 
be so fiercely fought in the convention by 
those delegations from Western States 
which, though unlikely to contribute any 
electoral votes, go far toward controlling 

There remains in New York, at the 
present moment, only one avowed candi- 
date, Hon. William R. Hearst, the owner 
of widely circulated newspapers in that 
metropolis, Chicago, and San Francisco, 
who has recently been elected to a seat in 
the House of Representatives. Mr. Hearst 
is young, rich, and audacious. His news- 
papers in New York and Chicago have a 
practically unbroken record of Democratic 
regularity. In 1896 and 1900 he was of 
inestimable service to the Democratic 
cause, both by giving it journalistic sup- 


Sketched from life by V. Floyd Campbell 

Photograph by ClineJinst 








Fhotograph by Townsend 



Sketched from life by F. Floyd Campbell 

The Booklovers Magazine 


port and by aiding in the collection of 
funds. His newspapers, if we allow for a 
certain tendency to a drum-and-trumpet 
imperialism, preach the most advanced 
type of democracy, and are today doing 
more than any other agency to keep alive 
that radicalism which in a score of years 
will be recognized as the truest conserva- 
tism, because it seeks to conserve for all 
the people those rights and privileges 
which now are seized by the few. Today 
I am convinced that among the masses of 
the people Mr. Hearst is a prime favorite 
for the nomination. 

But that fact alone does not make plain 
and smooth his pathway to the nomina- 
tion. Long before it ever occurred to Mr. 
Hearst that he might like to be a great 
politician — or statesman, if you will — he 
was a great journalist. He has supported 
Democratic candidates well and loyally, 
but he has found journalistic satisfaction in 
denouncing them bitterly and cruelly, even 
before the returns that announced their 
defeats had ceased coming over the wire. 
He has supported others that succeeded, 
but many of them have found that the 
price of that support was the extending to 
his agents of journalistic favors which they 
could not grant, and that their refusal 
turned friendship into enmity. This is 
perhaps good policy for a journalist, but it 
builds up antagonisms among the men who 
choose delegations and select nominees. 
Indeed, a study of political history shows 
that no newspaper editor was ever chosen to 
the Presidency, and few to any high office. 
Mr. Hearst has the special advantage of a 
practical residence in two states — Califor- 
nia and New York. The delegation from 
either would give him standing in the con- 
vention. In California, however, he has 
been embarrassed by the action of his 
newspaper in refusing to support the last 
Democratic nominee for governor, Hon. 
Frank Lane, a man of wide popularity not 
only in that State but among radical 
Democrats in many sections. 

Within a few days of the writing of this 
article yet another New Yorker has come 
forward — Hon. George B. McClellan, 

the Mayor of Greater New York. Mr. 
McClellan is young, ambitious, and abun- 
dantly supplied with powerful friends. 
He is not without public experience, 
having served long and creditably in 
Congress. He will, however, have but 
a few months in the mayor's office to 
prove, before the convention, whether 
he is a man of independence or a second 
Van Wyck. There has been discussion of 
the eligibility of Colonel McClellan, based 
on the fact that he was born in Dresden 
while his parents were on a foreign trip. 
No constitutional lawyer would for a 
moment entertain any doubt of this sort. 
The parents being both Americans, and 
their absence from this country merely 
temporary, it is unquestionable that the 
son possesses all their rights as an Ameri- 
can citizen. 

So much for New York. Massachusetts 
has one commanding figure in Hon. 
Richard Olney, who, though in the Cleve- 
land cabinet in 1896, managed to escape 
the bitter hostility that attached to the 
other members of that administration. 
Weakest perhaps on the trust issue — hav- 
ing declared the federal anti-trust law 
unconstitutional at one time — he won wide 
popularity as Secretary of State at the time 
of the Venezuela imbroglio. He has 
already behind him his State organization, 
and he is not believed to be especially 
inimical to Mr. Bryan. Yet it is seldom 
that a candidate is chosen from a State 
hopelessly in control of the opposition 
party. Should he be nominated, the party 
would have to abandon certain of its planks 
on the use of federal troops and govern- 
ment by injunction, as it was Mr. Olney 
who applied these drastic remedies at the 
time of the National Railway Union strike 
in Chicago in 1903. 

Within a comparatively few days one of 
the most widely known Southern journal- 
ists told me that beyond any doubt the 
nominee of the next Democratic conven- 
tion would be Senator Arthur P. Gorman 
of Maryland. " Gorman has a regular 
organization," said he, " and his agents are 
working in all the Southern States. He is 


The Booklovers Magazine 

a consummate politician, was regular in the 
last two elections, is the leader of the 
Senate, and enjoys the confidence of the 
financial interests of the country." This 
list of qualifications seems an imposing 
one; and yet it appears that Mr. Gorman's 
nomination would involve almost as great 
a revolution in Democratic sentiment as 
took place in 1896. Regular though he 
may have been, he has made no secret of 
his disapproval of the issues of the last two 
campaigns. But more: to the Cleveland 
and Oliiey wing of the party he must be as 
obnoxious because of his protectionist 
views as he is to the other wing because of 
his contempt for radical and anti-monopoly 
principles. The South inay perhaps be 
held in the convention, and afterwards, on 
the race question alone, but it seems prob- 
able that the Senator from Maryland, 
astute though he admittedly is, will need 
to devote his time in the present session of 
the Senate to perfecting a record upon 
which he can appeal more strongly to the 
North and Middle West. 

Looking to the West it is evident that the 
elections of last November played havoc 
with the political prospects of the distinct- 
ively radical wing of the Democratic party. 
Mayor Tom L. Johnson, of Cleveland, 
was never a believer in silver, but he did 
stand by the anti-monopoly program of 
the party. He was close to Mr. Bryan, 
and was regarded by many as his residuary 
legatee, though himself denying any pres- 
ent ambitions beyond serving the city of 
Cleveland. His victory in Ohio was never 
hoped for by the most sanguine of his fol- 
lowers, but it was thought that success in 
reducing the last Republican majority 
there would indicate the continuing and 
increasing strength of radical Democracy 
among the voters. VVHiatever the cause, 
whether by treachery in his own party or 
the lavish use of money by the opposition, 
Mr. Johnson was beaten by so decisive a 
majority as to discourage his most ardent 
supporters. A man of large means, of 
great pertinacity of purpose and mental 
resiliency, he will no doubt continue his 
struggle and figure largely in the national 

convention. Between now and the time 
for selecting delegates in Ohio there will 
be no opportunity to dislodge him from his 
control of the State organization, but as 
an actual candidate his chance is probably 

Associated with .Mayor Johnson in his 
cainpaign was one of the most picturesque 
and lovable figures in American politics 
today — Mayor Samuel M. Jones of 
Toledo. Mayor Jones is, not merely by 
his own insistence but in fact, "a man 
without a party." He declares — 1 think 
wrongly — that party organizations invaria- 
bly and necessarily lead to corruption, 
extortion, and political chicanery. No 
man who has known him questions his 
absolute sincerity in this belief. No man 
who has observed the history of Toledo in 
the last eight years — since it has been 
under his control as mayor — will doubt 
that if Jones, with his ability, honesty, and 
courage, had been a party man and had 
been supported by a party organization, he 
could have done much good for the city. 
As it is, fighting his good fight single- 
handed and alone, he has been beaten on 
essential points though victorious in some 
purely sentimental ones. When he en- 
countered merely the derelicts of society 
in the police court as presiding judge, he 
showed a sense of justice tempered 
strongly with mercy, and helped to remedy 
some of the cruel wrongs of the law as 
now administered. But when he had to 
antagonize "vested rights," the powers of 
the privileged classes proved too much for 
him and he was almost helpless. Nobody 
who knows the two men would deny to 
Mayor Jones a higher ethical ideal than 
that, for example, of Mayor Harrison of 
Chicago. \'et 1 doubt whether the for- 
mer, being an idealist and " a man without 
a party," has done so much to protect his 
city against corporate aggressions as the 
latter, who is frankly a partisan and a 
Democratic boss. Mayor Jones is hardly 
a factor in the Democratic problem today. 
He has usually of late years cooperated 
with raiiical Democrats, anil will jirobably 
follow them should they leave the party 

Photograph by Albany Art Union 



The Booklovers Magazine 



which they now control. Perhaps for this 
reason his name merits mention in this 

The Democrats of Chicago have made 
the issue of municipal ownership their 
own, and on this issue Mayor Carter H. 
Harrison has been repeatedly elected. 
Today the people of the city, irrespective 
of party, are engaged in an effort to rescue 
their streets from the control of perhaps 
the most offensive and incompetent traction 
monopoly in the country. While a 
municipal rather than a national issue, this 
question of public ownership is one that 
accords thoroughly with the dominant sen- 
timent in the Democratic party; and 
should the mayor of Chicago press it to a 
successful conclusion he would become a 
national figure to be reckoned with. 
Unfortunately his political influence thus 
far has always been strictly confined to the 
limits of his city, the State organization 
having always been controlled by his politi- 
cal enemies, so that the possibility of his 
getting a delegation must be regarded as 

slight. He and his faction in Illinois rep- 
resent the radical wing of the party, the 
opposition to him being led by the principal 
movers in the Palmer and Buclcner campaign 
of 1896. 

Such are, then, the men most promi- 
nently mentioned for the Democratic 
nomination. (Others occasionally come 
under discussion, as for example Judge 
George Gray, a member of the recent 
anthracite coal arbitration board and of the 
Paris peace commission; Hon. Charles A. 
lowne, of Michigan and New York, the 
famous orator in the cause of silver; Hon. 
Joseph VV. Folk, the fighting district 
attorney who made such successful war on 
"graft" in St. Louis; Gen. Nelson A. 
Miles, and a few of less general note. 
That some utterly obscure man should win 
the prize is not impossible, in the present 
disordered state of the party. Of those 
chiefly under discussion by the public at 
the present moment it may be doubted 
whether there is one who could hold both 
wings of the party together. 

The Booklovers Magazine 




The Democratic problem then, as it 
presents itself to me, is whether the party 
shall present itself to the people with a 
platform of platitudes and with candidates 
chosen from among those who in the 
recent elections clearly had the advantage ; 
or with a platform in the spirit of those of 
the last two national campaigns, but 
greatly modified as to the letter — " i6 to 
I " being wholly eliminated — and with 
candidates selected from the leaders who 
have acquired the habit of speaking freely 
to the people and expressing their opinions 
and purposes. Undoubtedly the advocates 
of the former plan are at present the more 
influential even if they are not the more 

The "practical " politician desires victory 
at any price that he may enjoy its fruits. 
He is the man who makes up delegations 
to nominating conventions. He is encour- 
aged today by the reflection that Tammany 
in New York and Gorman in Maryland — 
types of his class — have been successful ; 
while Johnson in Ohio, who fought for a 

principle and attacked corruptionists in his 
own party quite as savagely as he did those 
in the other, has been badly defeated. The 
inarticulate mass of Democratic voters may 
still feel that there is need in the land for 
a party that shall truly and frankly repre- 
sent the principle of equal rights to all and 
special privileges to none, but they have no 
means of organization, no general leader- 
ship, and practically no press to serve them, 
as against those to whom victory is the one 
thing to be sought at whatever cost of 
means and men. 

To the triumphant progress of the "re- 
organizers" but three obstacles are now 
apparent : 

1. The strength of the radical element in 
the Democratic national committee. 

2. The two-thirds rule that obtains in 
the Democratic national convention. 

3. The danger of such concerted action 
in the election, on the part of those 
defeated in the convention, as was 
taken in 1896 by the minority faction. 


Sketched from I'tje by I . Hoy J Campbell 

The Booklovers Magazine 


The first obstacle is of comparatively 
little importance. No one would claim 
today that the national committee is dom- 
inated by the radical Democracy, though 
the efforts being made by the other faction 
to dislodge Senator Jones from his position 
of vantage as chairman show clearly that 
they appreciate the value of control of the 
committee. But in 1896 the committee 
was absolutely in the hands of the Gold 
Democrats. Nevertheless, the convention 
overturned its every arrangement, rejected 
its every recommendation, and managed 
affairs to suit the delegates alone. It is 
evident that only in the event of a closely 
divided convention this year will the 
national committee have any considerable 
influence in the controversy. 

In Democratic conventions it has long 
been the rule that a vote of two-thirds of 
the delegates is necessary to a choice of a 
candidate. There will be in the next 
convention 942 delegates, unless for senti- 
mental reasons delegates are admitted from 
some of our new possessions. The sup- 
port of 314 of these delegates will enable 
the opponents of the dominant faction to 
block its action on candidates, though not 
on the platform. Part of the Democratic 
problem is whether this control can be 
secured by the radicals, but it is only logi- 
cal to assert that, if the avowed purpose of 
the reorganizers should be to nominate a 
man peculiarly offensive to the West and 
Southwest, this control can very readily 
be gained. 

The third obstacle I have noted should 
be the most serious one, and is no doubt 
continually in the minds of the men who 
are planning the change in Democratic 
policy. But it must be borne in mind that 
political tactics are not for the moment 
only. Mr. Gorman, for example, with his 
commanding position today, has been a 
receptive and at times an active candidate 
for the presidency for nearly twenty years. 
Mr. Hill has occupied a like position 
almost as long. Patient planning for the 
future is a fundamental of political suc- 
cess. So it may be that a triumphant 
majority in the convention may say to the 

minority: " Do your worst I We will. con- 
trol the organization for the next four 
years. The chances are that we will be 
beaten this year even with your aid. Bolt, 
if you want to ! But, if you bolt, you 
will be out of the party and we will be in 
complete control." 

So stands the situation in which the 
Democratic party finds itself. Can it be 
clarified ? The question is rather one of 
principles than candidates. Mr. Bryan has 
said that there is no common ground on 
which the so-called Gold Democrats and 
Silver Democrats can meet, and to a lim- 
ited degree that is true ; for with many of 
the former hostility was bred less by the 
money plank in the platform than by 
the general tone of anti-monopoly that 
strongly pervaded it. 

We surely cannot expect railroad sen- 
ators, or sugar-trust senators, or politicians 
who draw their campaign funds from 
tr jsts, to act cheerfully with a party that 
declares all monopoly in private hands to 
be wrong. Yet it does seem possible that, 
with the money issue abandoned or newly 
stated, substantial harmony might be ob- 
tained on a platform attacking monopoly; 
demanding direct legislation ; approving the 
principle of public ownership, both munic- 
ipal and State ; opposing militarism ; and 
demanding the reform of the tariff with 
particular reference to the protection now 
given to the numerous articles which are 
controlled by the trusts. 

If State delegations might be sent to the 
national convention instructed to work 
for the incorporation of these principles in 
the platform, and for the nomination of 
any man known beyond doubt to favor 
their enforcement, there might be a peace- 
ful way out of a political quarrel, which 
now only promises four years more of 
the war which has lasted during the past 
eight years. 

Can it be done ? That is the Demo- 
cratic problem. 

Photot'ffh b} Vraycolt 


Joseph Chamberlain 


" Are the Lords to dictate to us, the people of 
England ? Your ancestors resisted kings and 
abated the pritle of monarchs, and it is inconceiv- 
able that you should be so careless of your heri- 
tage as to submit your liberties to this miserable 
minority of individuals, who rest their claims upon 
privilege and upon accident. I have no spite 
against the House of Lords. I have no desire to 
see dull uniformity in social life, and I am rather 
thankful than otherwise to gentlemen who will 
take the trouble of wearing robes and coronets, and 
who will keep up a certain state of splendor which 
is very pleasant to look upon. They are ancient 
monuments, and I, for one, should be very sorry 
to deface them; but, gentlemen, I do not admit 
that we can build upon these interesting ruins the 
foundations of our government ; I cannot allow that 
these antiquities should control the destinies of a 
free empire. 

"I hold, and very few intelligent men do not 
now hold, that the best form of government for a 
free and enlightened people is that of a republic, 
and that is a form of government to which the 
nations of Europe are surely, and not very slowly, 
tending. The idea to my mind that underlies 
republicanism is that in all cases merit should have 
a fair chance — that it should not be handicapped 
in the race by any accident of birth, and that all 
men should have equal rights before the law — 
equal chances of serving their country. 

" I am inclined to think that Jack Cade was an 
ill-used and much misunderstood gentleman, who 
happened to have sympathized with the poor and 
the oppressed, and who therefore was made the 
mark for the malignant hatred of the aristocratic and 
land-owning classes, who combined to burlesque 
his opinions and put him out of the way." 

It is difficult to identify the famous Eng- 
lish imperialist of today in the utterances 
above quoted. Yet it is barely twenty 
years since Mr. Chamberlain poured the 
vials of his wrath upon the House of 
Lords, frankly preached a theoretical 
republicanism, and warmly eulogized Jack 
Cade, the English peasant rebel of the 
fourteenth century. 

But it would seem as though no English 
statesman of the first rank can round of? 
his career without eating the words of his 

youth. Gladstone's maiden speech in the 
House of Commons was a defense of slav- 
ery, and for sixty years thereafter his mind 
broadened and his sympathies widened 
until even the Liberal party refused to 
follow him in his reckless enthusiasm. 
Disraeli, on the other hand, reversed the 
radicalism of his early days, whatever it 
may have been worth, to reign with true 
oriental despotism over the Tory squires 
and bishops of England. Peel was quicker 
in his transformation, and reversed almost 
in a night the traditions of his party. And 
so we might follow the trail back and 
back. It is only men below the first rank 
who will remain consistent at all costs. 

Mr. Chamberlain's inconsistency does 
not appear to trouble him, nor does it 
seem to impair his influence or popularity. 
For his own part, he is said by some of his 
more malicious critics to wear blinkers, so 
that like a properly harnessed horse he is 
able only to look forward and not back- 
ward. Mr. Chamberlain would probably 
retort that he not only looks forward but 
moves forward ; and it is worth noting that 
few, even of his most strenuous opponents, 
would urge that he has ever ceased to be 
progressive, though he has now consorted 
with the Tory party of England for nearly 
twenty years. It may indeed be argued 
that a democratic faith, or even a thor- 
ough-going republicanism, is not inconsis- 
tent with the spirit that welcomes extend- 
ing empire; and the examples of France 
and the United States might be quoted to 
give effect to the argument. But there is 
no escape for Mr. Chamberlain in this 
direction. It must be freely confessed 
that twenty years ago he was an out-and- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

out "Little Englander." He said at that 
time: "I look with greater satisfaction to 
our annexation of gas and water to our 
scientific frontier, in the improvement area, 
than I do to the result of that imperial 
policy which has given us Cyprus and the 

Looking at the early lives respectively 
of the two statesmen, it is Gladstone, not 
Chamberlain, who should logically have 
become a great imperialist. Gladstone 
was not indeed of aristocratic birth, but 
his father was a man of vast wealth, and 
at Eton and Oxford young Gladstone fell 
immediately into an atmosphere which 
fitted him to enter public life, by becom- 
ing the Tory representative of the pocket 
borough of an English duke. The medi- 
evalism and militarism of the baser sort of 
imperialism could hardly have found more 
likely soil than the mind of the young 
Oxford Tory, who proudly avowed him- 
self "the Duke's man," and eloquently 
defended the practice of slavery in the 
West Indies. 

As to young Chamberlain, there was no 
Eton or Oxford for him. A couple of 
years between the ages of fourteen and six- 
teen at one of the most democratic among 
the secondary schools of London — Univer- 
sity College school — completed his educa- 
tion so far as it was to be obtained at 
schools. His father was a wholesale maker 
of boots and shoes in London, and at six- 
teen young Chamberlain went into the 
business. For the next two years he was 
doing counting-house work in London, 
and picking up what additional education 
he could during the evenings by attending 
lectures at the Polytechnic Listitute and 
other places. It was not a youthful experi- 
ence from which one would have predicted 
the blossoming of that full-blown flower of 
imperialism whose splendors have capti- 
vated the imagination of the people of 
Britain in the twentieth century. Nor did 
Chamberlain's surroundings become more 
inspiring when, at eighteen, he exchanged 
boot-making for screw-making, and re- 
moved to Hirmingham as the business rep- 
resentative of his father, who had become 

extensively interested in the Nettlefold 
firm there. In his new scene of labor 
Chamberlain applied himself with eager- 
ness to his work, and he speedily became 
an important factor in the firm. His per- 
sonal interests must have been consider- 
able, for he was in a position to marry at 
the age of twenty-five; and at thirty-one 
we find him able to give a donation of one 
thousand pounds sterling for the further- 
ance of some political object. Nor is it to 
be inferred that his devotion to business 
was so engrossing as to hinder the further 
development and cultivation of his mind. 
Not on the lines of academic culture, 
indeed, did the development proceed, but 
it was none the less thorough and effec- 
tive. He read widely in French and Eng- 
lish, though chiefly along lines of material 
value. He threw himself with ardor into 
the various debating and mutual improve- 
ment societies of the town ; gave lectures 
to working men at a club established in 
connection with his own firm, and became 
a Sunday-school teacher at the Unitarian 

It may be well to pause for a moment to 
state that the members of the Chamberlain 
family have been Unitarians for genera- 
tions; and while Unitarianism in England 
is certainly a portion of what may be com- 
prehensively termed " Nonconformity," yet 
there is little in common between the 
adherents of that faith and the average 
Baptist and Wesleyan. Many of the most 
advanced thinkers and most cultivated 
minds in England during the first half of 
the nineteenth century were to be found in 
the ranks of Unitarianism. Nevertheless, 
a common opposition to the established 
church had brought all shades of noncon- 
formity together, especially in the large 
manufacturing centres; and all through 
Mr. Chamberlain's early manhood he was 
identified with the bitter controversy con- 
tinually prevailing between churchmen and 
dissenters. It is impossible for those liv- 
ing in a country that has not a state 
church to realize the bitterness which sec- 
tarian bigotry can attain under such con- 
ditions. "Between church and chapel," 

Photograph by "Duff us Bros,, Cafe Town 


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says a recent writer, referring to the con- 
dition of affairs in Birmingham at that 
time, "a sharp line was drawn, social as 
well as political. The two factions main- 
tained in almost every town a standing 
controversy, practically unmitigated by per- 
sonal friendships, or even by business rela- 
tions. The church people patronized the 
orthodox butcher and grocer; nor would 
the dissenters buy their butter and sugar 
except from the nonconformist brother." 
Local politics soon began to attract 
young Chamberlain, and he threw himself 
into them with his usual vigor. His affilia- 
tions were wholly with the radicals and 
nonconformists; and the Liberal leaders of 
those days — days when Gladstone was 
supreme — were all too slow for the young 
Birmingham radical. Parliamentary life 
was undoubtedly the goal of the successful 
young manufacturer some years before he 
reached it, and he probably realized that 
the speediest way of attaining his object 
was to proceed by the municipal route. 
He was already prominent in the afifairs of 
Birmingham, and a successful municipal 
career would almost guarantee his election 
for the city. Birmingham in those days 
was the Mecca of all good radicals, and 
John Bright, the famous Quaker orator 
and statesman, was high priest of the 
party. Into municipal life therefore Mr. 
Chamberlain plunged, while still in the 
early thirties, and with such signal success 
that he was three times mayor of Birming- 
ham before he had reached forty. His 
energy was as amazing then as it has been 
ever since. He was described as "the 
mayor and council rolled into one." He 
was an ardent advocate of municipal 
ownership, and during his first term in the 
mayor's office induced the Corporation to 
buy out the gas and water franchises for 
the city, at a cost of two million pounds 
sterling, though an attempt at municipal 
ownership on so large a scale had never 
before been made. The experiment proved 
an unqualified success, and was copied 
extensively among the municipalities of 
England and Scotland. In many other 
ways Mr. Chamberlain made his term as 

mayor a red-letter period in the history of 
Birmingham, and when he left the chair 
the city had become one of the best gov- 
erned municipalities in the world. From 
the mayor's chair he went in 1876 straight 
to Parliament. He was forty years old at 
the time, and had prospered so well that 
he was able to free himself from further 
business cares, and to devote his time 
exclusively to public affairs. 

The Conservatives under Disraeli had 
triumphed at the polls, and Gladstone — 
who was then sixty-seven years old, the 
very age of Chamberlain at the present 
time — was "sulking in his tent," leaving 
the leadership of the Liberal party to Lord 
Harrington, the present Duke of Devon- 
shire. To the young radical mayor a ter- 
rible reputation had been given, and there 
seemed to be a general expectation that 
he would signalize his appearance in the 
House by some striking demonstration of 
hostility to the conventions of society, if 
not by some breach of decorum. There 
was general surprise, however, and prob- 
ably some disappointment, when the new 
arrival proved to be no more than a tall, 
slim, dapper gentleman, with the regula- 
tion silk hat and frock coat, a glass in his 
eye, and an orchid in his buttonhole — for 
Mr. Chamberlain had already begun the 
cultivation of the beautiful bulb that has 
been so long associated with his name. 
"He wears his eye-glass like a gentle- 
man," was Disraeli's only comment on 
Mr. Chamberlain when the latter soon 
afterward delivered his maiden speech in 
the House. 

The time was opportune for displaying 
the aggressive qualities, strength of char- 
acter, and forcefulness in debate which 
belonged to Mr. Chamberlain. Disraeli 
had embarked on an ostentatious foreign 
policy, crowning the Queen with oriental 
splendor as Empress of India, fostering 
expansion in South Africa and Afghan- 
istan, and attempting at the Congress of 
Berlin to assume the dictatorship of East- 
ern Europe. With this devotion to foreign 
matters went neglect of home interests and 
piling up of bills for the unlucky taxpayer. 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 


To prick the bubble of Dizzy's showy 
imperiahsm, to score his neglect of the 
Empire's heart, was a task of joyful ease 
to the Chamberlain of those days. He 
spoke with such effect that, when the 
Liberal party returned to power in l88o, 
his admission to the Government as repre- 
sentative of the advanced liberals was no 
more than had been expected. There is 
no need, here, to dwell at length upon 
Mr. Chamberlain's parliamentary career. 
From Mr. Morley's recent publication. 
The Life of Gladstone, we learn what an 
uncomfortable time that statesman had in 
endeavoring to make the burning radical- 
ism of the Birmingham representative 
amalgamate with the sluggish whiggism of 
Lord Hartington. The pace of liberalism 
was all too slow for Mr. Chamberlain. 
His intense radicalism, however, startled, 
if it did not offend, the country; and upon 
the appeal to the nation in 1885 it was Mr. 
Chamberlain's extreme views — according 
to Mr. Gladstone and the Times news- 
paper — that turned many of the great rad- 
ical centres for the first time into Tory 
hives, threatening to again seat the Con- 
servatives in power. But the rural con- 
stituencies came to the rescue of Mr. 
Gladstone and gave him a slight majority. 
Now came the great Irish Home Rule 
crisis, at which we can only glance in 
passing. All but the youngest English- 
speaking world will remember that when 
Mr. Gladstone announced his conversion 
to the Irish cause. Lord Hartington and 
Mr. Chamberlain, with about seventy fol- 
lowers who took the name of Liberal 
Unionists, broke abruptly from their leader. 
A great upheaval followed, which ended 
in Gladstone's being driven from power — 
the Liberal party being reduced to a state 
of chaos from which it is only now begin- 
ning to emerge. With a brief intermission 
of shadowy Gladstonism from 1892 to 
1895, the Conservatives and their allies — 
the anti-Gladstone Liberals — have ruled 
Great Britain from 1886 until the present 
time. Mr. Chamberlain became the bete 
noire of the Liberal party, and was called 
"Judas" by Irish members in the House. 

Yet the Conservative governments, that 
have been so long kept in power mainly 
by the strength of Mr. Chamberlain's fol- 
lowers, were sensibly affected by the democ- 
racy of their new allies, and the coalition 
governments showed their progressiveness 
by establishing a system of free schools 
throughout England and Wales, and by 
elaborating and setting into operation a 
fairly successful scheme of county councils, 
which has notably relieved the congestion 
of business in the House of Commons, 

It was not until 1895 that Mr. Cham- 
berlain himself, on the formation of Lord 
Salisbury's second government, took office 
with the Conservatives, and under his old 
opponent. His career as the exponent of 
the imperial idea may be said to date from 
that year, though his decisive action on 
Irish Home Rule had undoubtedly started 
him in this direction. From 1895 until 
last September he occupied the position 
of Secretary of State for the Colonies. It 
was a post which seldom, or never, had 
been given previously to a statesman of the 
first rank. Sometimes it had been filled 
by men who had to hunt up the colonies 
on the map after taking office. Within a 
year Mr. Chamberlain had made it the 
leading position in the cabinet, and his 
influence steadily grew. "Wherever the 
Macgregor sits, there is the head of the 
table," was the emphatic dictum of the 
Scottish laird as he scorned the formal 
seat of honor, and so it may almost be said 
of Mr. Chamberlain. Whatever position 
in the cabinet he had occupied would still 
have evoked the same dominant person- 
ality, and have made him easily primus 
inter pares with his colleagues. Just as 
during his mayoralty he was described as 
"mayor and council rolled in one," so at 
the colonial office and in the councils of 
the government he dwarfed those around 
him; and whether Salisbury or Balfour 
was titular leader, the eyes of the country, 
and frequently of the world, were turned 
on Chamberlain. Gradually he became 
the spokesman of the new-found imperial 
sentiment that grew up within the Empire. 
His opponents laid upon his shoulders the 

The Booklovers Magazine 


responsibility of the Boer war; and it is 
at least true that his diplomacy could not 
avert it. The fierce radicals shouted 
almost joyfully, when news came of Brit- 
ain's bitter and humiliating defeats in 
South Africa, that Chamberlain was ruined 
at last. But when the war closed Cham- 
berlain was more than ever the man of the 
hour. Rightly or wrongly he was regarded 
as the one man holding office who was 
not rendered inefficient by weakness of 
character or by red-tapeism. He made 
a triumphal tour of the country so lately 
devastated by war, yet showed in doing so 
such genuine gifts of statesmanship that 
his stoutest political opponents were con- 
strained, for perhaps the first time, to do 
homage to his large patriotism and wise 
counsels. When he returned last spring 
from what the newspapers termed the 
"illimitable veldt," it was to find his col- 
leagues in the government weighed down 
by the contempt of the nation because of 
their hideous mismanagement of the war, 
which was now beginning to be realized, 
and by their blunders in connection with 
the education bill, which had goaded into 
fury the whole noncomformist population 
of England. But the public wrath seemed 
always to glance off from the coat of mail 
which Chamberlain wore. He was clad, in 
the popular mind at least, in the armor of 
efficiency, and efficiency was the one thing 
above all others that the nation needed. 

Then, suddenly, as though realizing into 
what a parlous condition his colleagues had 
fallen, and that it devolved upon him to 
turn attention from them, he propounded 
a new doctrine — a doctrine new, at least, 
from the lips of statesmen in a country 
which for fifty years had devoutly followed 
another faith. It was in truth nothing 
newer than the doctrine of protection ; but 
there was linked with it the rough outline 
of a plan of extraordinary daring and mag- 
nitude, whereby the various great sections 
of the Empire were, said Mr. Chamber- 
lain, to be bound together by a system of 
preferential trade. In an instant the polit- 
ical discussions of the day had been trans- 
formed. The mismanagement of the war, 

and the miniature revolution caused by the 
education act, faded, at least temporarily, 
into the background. A new line of 
cleavage appeared between the parties, not 
greatly to the advantage of the Conserva- 
tive party, since for the first time in nearly 
twenty years the Liberals began to show 
signs of united action inspired by a common 

But Chamberlain, with his usual mas- 
terly tactics, had converted the Liberal 
party into the party of inactivity, a party 
wedded to what he denounced as the old- 
fogyism of Cobdenism ; whilst the Con- 
servatives, or those of them who followed 
him, became the advocates of a new policy 
which was to cement the Empire, and to 
win back for England the industrial suprem- 
acy which, in the opinion of many, was 
passing from her. Almost the bitterest 
opposition that Chamberlain encountered 
was within the cabinet itself; but within 
three months he had driven every Cobden- 
ite from the government, and had con- 
verted the prime minister to the more 
difficult half of the new policy. The gov- 
ernment was protectionized, and Peel's 
work of 1846 was undone. Then, with a 
final bold stroke, the ex-manufacturer from 
Birmingham cuts clear from the govern- 
ment he had transformed, frees himself 
from all official responsibility, and, like a 
modern Peter the Hermit, starts out on a 
crusade for the salvation of the Empire by 
a scheme of preferential trade. 

Protection is well, he tells us, but not 
enough ; it may be used to break down tarif? 
walls, but the Empire itself can be pre- 
served from ultimate dissolution only by 
preferential tariffs. It is a policy full of 
intricate problems, of hidden danger, and 
possible advantage. The whole commer- 
cial world is interested in the struggle, and 
will be appreciably affected by the out- 
come. It is idle to attempt to forecast 
the result, as so many are doing, and will 
doubtless continue to do, in flat contradic- 
tion of each other. Opinion on the sub- 
ject is still unformed and wavering. Mr. 
Chamberlain is now nearly sixty-eight years 
of age, and is greatly troubled with gout. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

This is not precisely the proper kind of 
disease, perhaps, for a democratic states- 
man ; but, according to" Lord Rosebery, 
Mr. Chamberlain models himself on the 
elder Pitt, the great imperialist of the 
eighteenth century, and that alleged pro- 
totype was a martyr to the same trouble- 
some affection. A further interesting 
coincidence between the elder Pitt and 
Chamberlain is seen, by the way, in the 
elevation of the son of each statesman to 
the chancellorship of the exchequer at a 
remarkably early age. If Chamberlain 
modeled himself on Chatham, he must be 
credited with considerable success in his 

Mr. Chamberlain has undertaken a task 
that, for a man of sixty-eight, is more than 
herculean, being nothing less than the edu- 
cation of his countrymen up to protection 
— or down to protection, as the free-trader 
will prefer to say. Yet his years sit lightly 
on his shoulders, and he could easily pass 
for his middle-aged son, between whom 
and himself there is a strong facial resem- 
blance. He is full of a marvelous energy, 
and is brimming over with the optimism 
that comes from a successful career. He 
is not a cultured orator, but always a most 
lucid and incisive speaker, with a power of 
repartee that lashes and wounds the most 
thick-skinned of would-be hecklers. Stren- 
uous and exciting as his life has been, Mr. 
Chamberlain has yet allowed himself one 
charming though costly recreation — the 
cultivation of orchids; and in his beautiful 
home at Birmingham he has the most 
wonderful collection to be found in Eng- 
land. His famous Birmingham house, 
named "Highbury" after the division of 
London in which he was born, is sur- 
rounded by handsome gardens, newly laid 
out last summer under Mr. Chamber- 
lain's personal direction, during the scanty 
leisure he allowed himself from political 
turmoil. Fortunate in so many things, 
Mr. Chamberlain is happiest of all in the 
possession of a charming American wife, 
the daughter of the late Mr. W, C. Endi- 
cott, war secretary in Mr. Cleveland's 
first administration. Mrs. Chamberlain 

follows her husband's career with the 
closest interest, and has herself become no 
mean authority on English politics. 

Apart from his occasional attention to 
gardening, Mr. Chamberlain is probably as 
busy when at Highbury as during his heav- 
iest official work. His correspondence and 
public duties have rather increased than 
otherwise with his relinquishment of offi- 
cial life. Two hundred letters, on an 
average, are received by him each day ; all 
are read and answered personally, with the 
aid of a private secretary and competent 
shorthand writers. This correspondence 
has to be dealt with most carefully; for 
artful opponents are forever laying cunning 
traps for the Birmingham statesman, and 
too faithful friends are but little less trou- 
blesome with their suggestions and conun- 
drums. The house is beset with news- 
paper correspondents, with whom Mr. 
Chamberlain is always popular. He talks 
freely with them and fully appreciates the 
power and influence of the press; yet no 
correspondent has ever extracted a secret 
from him. He works far into the night, 
parliamentary life having accustomed him 
to late hours. Three in the morning often 
finds him still at his desk. His speeches — 
all the important ones, at least — are care- 
fully prepared, and are privately declaimed 
to his private secretary the day before 
delivery, the statesman meanwhile smok- 
ing a brier pipe or a fat black cigar. 

Austen Chamberlain, the new Chan- 
cellor of the Exchequer, has in the 
past greatly aided his father in his 
onerous work of private correspondence ; 
but it maybe assumed that his own official 
cares will now occupy the whole time of 
Chamberlain fits. It may be added that 
the younger Chamberlain is unmarried, 
aged forty, wears an eyeglass, like his 
father, and is said to inherit his father's 
aptitude for politics, and his judgment. It 
is significant that, although the father 
has withdrawn from office, his influence 
persists through the son, to whom has 
been given one of the most important 
offices in the cabinet — touching in its 
ramifications the minutest details of national 

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London Stereoscopic Co. 


government. He is in all things in fullest 
sympathy with his father's policy. 

"And the turn of a screw was the 
beginning of the whole thing," said an old 
mechanic who had talked of Chamberlain 
with me, and who was still tinctured with 

" How so?" I asked. 

"Well, when Chamberlain went to 
Birmingham from London to represent his 
father in the Nettlefold screw business, a 
new screw was put on the market by that 
firm, which made the fortunes of all con- 
cerned, except the inventor. The new 

screw tapered towards its point instead of 
remaining an even width from top to bot- 
tom, and the tapering point allowed you 
to start driving it home with a few blows 
of the hammer, thus saving the time of 
the workmen." 

" A wonderful invention, was it not," he 
added sarcastically, " to make two cabinet 
ministers and disturb the whole Empire? 
And it was an American invention at 


Meissonier's subjects always play their 
parts beyond mistaking. His Connoisseur 
knows, his Reveller is really hilarious, his 
Musketeer is a musketeer every inch. 
This truth to life he owed in great part 
to his keen insight, but even more it was 
due to his genius for taking pains, to his 
untiring efforts to surround himself with 
the appropriate atmosphere. The stories 
told of his unquenchable enthusiasm in 
this direction are legion: of how he bought 
a field of rye and prevailed on a colonel of 
cuirassiers to charge through it with his 
regiment to produce a desired battle effect ; 
of how, when at work on the Napoleon 
series, he borrowed Napoleon's coat from 
the Museum, had it copied crease for 
crease, donned it, and, mounting a wooden 
horse, posed for hours before his mirror 
studying every effect ; of how he bought 
horses of the same color and breed as 
those Napoleon rode, and picketed them 
in rain and snow for weeks for local 
color's sake. Yet this attention to detail, 
fantastic as it seemed, did not absorb him 
to the neglect of the picture's unity or pro- 
portion. The picture is not a copy; it is 
a creation which, if cold and arid in senti- 
ment, is yet full of the poetry of the artis- 
tic. For imagination and depth and verve 
we have in compensation measured har- 
mony, dash, and brilliancy, and matchless 
delicacy of finish. 


The two portraits by Andrea da Solario 
in the National Gallery stand out from 
the other works of the Lombard School 
in largeness of conception and breadth of 
treatment. There is more of Flanders 
than of Italy in his Venetian Senator. 
Tradition confirms the connection. 
Andrea himself never came in contact 

with Flemish art. Born near Milan in 
1458, of a family of artists, he passed his 
life in Venice studying under Leonardo 
da Vinci, in France on commissions, and 
in Naples along with Andrea del Sarto. 
But in Venice, in 1490, when this portrait 
was probably painted, there lived Antonello 
da Messina, who had brought back from 
the Low Countries the secrets of oil 
painting newly discovered by the Van Eyck 
brothers. Through Antonello the influence 
of the North was conveyed to the painters 
of Italy, and to none more than Andrea. 

The result of these converging influences 
is interestingly shown in the Venetian 
Senator. Both in style of presentment 
and in technique, in pose and broad em- 
phasis, Flemish origins are apparent. The 
landscape accessories are of Lombardy, 
while the rich, clear coloring are common 
to Venice and the Netherlands alike; 
chief!y in the subtle bodying forth of the 
man's inmost soul Andrea shows his kin- 
ship to the creator of Mona Lisa. It is a 
striking portrait of one of the strong, proud 
spirits that made Venice for a few brief 
years queen of the seas. 

A Van Dyck in your ancestral gallery is 
a virtual patent of nobility. Nearly all 
the great families of England are repre- 
sented in the work of the prolific "painter 
to the court " when Charles I was king. 
AH Van Dyck's sitters seem members of 
one large family, gifted with the same 
stately charm and cultured grace, the 
same calm assurance of place and power 
held by right divine. It may be due to 
their sense of solidarity and the influence 
of life and interests and costumes in com- 
mon, but even more it is due to the fusing 
and shaping power of the artist's tempera- 





Thh Booklovers Magazine 


ment. V^an Dyck shows us all his patrons 
through the medium of his own distinction 
and courtly charm. Even national traits 
are submerged in the process. There is 
nothing essentially of the Low Countries 
in the portrait, here reproduced, of 
Richardot, a high official of the Nether- 
lands government of the day, and his son. 
There is much essentially of Van Dyck — 
the stately pose and glowing color, and 
chiefly the refinement of outline and 
superb modeling of the head. 

A precocious and favored pupil in the 
studio of Rubens, Van Dyck found his 
master's robust strength and versatility be- 
yond him, but in compensation developed a 
refinement and brilliancy all his own. Both 
his powers and his limitations pointed to 
portraiture. In England he found a fresh 
field, with sitters and costumes made to 
his hand. Though he painted quickly 
and, as he frankly averred, " for the 
kitchen, not the future," he never slighted 
his work. In the long list of Van Dyck's 
brilliant canvases there is scarcely one but 
confirms his title to the highest rank 
among the world's portrait painters. 

Good Americans when they die go to 
Paris, but American artists prefer to go 
before. Few in the large colony of new 
world painters who have found inspiration 
and a home in France have been so suc- 
cessfully acclimated as Walter Gay. Born 
in Boston about forty-five years ago, he 
went to Paris at twenty, and studied under 
Bonnat. The years since have brought 
him many honors at the Salon, his Mass 
in Brittany winning special attention. 

Mr. Gay has found his favorite subjects 
in the peasants of western France, study- 
ing their primitive manners with an insight 
that makes the common picturesque. 
His B'en'edicite, which hangs on the walls 
of the Luxembourg, is one of the best of 
these peasant idylls, in which naturalistic 
faithfulness is tempered with sympathy. 
The awkward but heartfelt devotion of 
that toil-bent old woman, giving thanks for 
her scanty meal, is admirably ''nterpreted. 

The note of pathos which marks all Mr. 
Gay's work is in harmony with the cold 
gray tone of the coloring. 

Pierre de la Boulaye's The Sermon, which 
has been acquired by the Luxembourg, is 
a notable piece of characterization, aside 
from its merits of dexterous brush work 
and its correct, vivacious drawing. So 
frank and purposeful is its analysis of the 
varying attitudes of the worshipers that it 
might almost be itself considered a sermon 
on indifference. The grouping is dramatic, 
and is painted with a breadth and vigor, as 
well as with a touch of the theatrical, that 
recall the work of Herkomer. 

Reynolds' versatility nowhere stands out 
more saliently than in the contrast between 
his portraits of women and his portraits of 
men. The whole style and character of 
his work seems to vary with the sex, now 
delicate and languorous, now broad and 
virile. Of the masculine portraits none is 
more masculine than that of Lord Heath - 
field, better known as the General Elliot 
who for three long years held Gibraltar 
against the fierce assaults of the French 
and Spanish force of forty thousand men 
and fifty ships of the line. The careless 
tourist, bent on doing the National Gal- 
lery in a morning, who dismissed the por- 
trait as that of a "red-faced beefeater in a 
red coat," might on even longer study 
have proved impervious to the attractions 
of art, but his steps might have been stayed 
by curiosity had he known that the gallant 
general was a lifelong vegetarian. 

The painting is not a portrait merely ; it 
is history. In the obscure clouds of smoke 
in the background, in the cannon pointed 
down to the sea below, and chiefly in the 
key which the artist introduced by a stroke 
of genius, the whole history of the siege 
is dramatically presented. Yet the back- 
ground, duly subordinated, only makes the 
man stand out more clearly in all his 
sturdy, foursquare resolution. The execu- 
tion matches the broad conception. The 
color is vigorous, and the drawing correct 
beyond Reynolds' wont. 











French Sculpture of Today 


Like the Greek, the Frenchman instinct- 
ively turns to sculpture as a favorite mode 
of expression. Like the Greek, also, his 
keen appreciation of the sensuously beau- 
tiful leads him too often to ignore both 
moral and artistic evolution in asserting the 
supremacy of the sensual. Again, it may 
be said that like the Greek he uses art as 
the minister of national pride. This is 
done in other countries beside his own, 
but nowhere is it so inexorably demanded 
that the public monument shall exist for 
art's sake as well as for pride's sake. 

And the art of sculpture is primarily a 
monumental art. Since the days when 
Ictinus and Callicrates, as builders, joined 
with Phidias in the design of the Parthe- 
non, it has found its largest and most noble 
expression, hand in hand with architecture, 
in the creation of religious or national 
memorials. In no other way can be so 
well expressed, and to so large an audience, 
the great sentiments of religion, of patriot- 
ism and national pride, or of honor to the 
illustrious dead. 

Along this line French sculpture of the 
past fifty years has achieved some of its 
most magnificent successes, and it is to the 
examples of this class of work that we 
must look for the first indications of some 
of the tendencies that are developed in the 
French sculpture of the twentieth century. 
For French sculpture of today is a thing 
of "tendencies." Obviously it is transi- 
tional; more so than is French painting. 
We are accustomed to differentiate between 
"schools" in the latter, and yet these dis- 
tinctions become less marked from day to 
day. For the tendency of the schools is 
to converge. This is not the case with 


the contemporary sculpture of France. 
Between Aizelin and Bartholome,or Barrias 
and Rodin, the gap is tremendous, and at 
present there is no indication of the gap 
becoming narrower. The visitor to the 
Salons finds that, in painting, the violent 
contrasts of a few years ago have almost 
disappeared. French painting is approach- 
ing more and more nearly to a type in 
which naturalistic treatment is aided by 
the knowledge of color and the theory of 
vibration gained through the pioneer work 
of the extremists in so-called "impression- 
ism." But what shall we say of the 
"type" in the department of sculpture ? 
Will it develop itself along the lines of 
symbolism or materialism? of dignity and 
force or of grace and beauty? of academic 
conventionalism or of /' art nouveau ? 
Who can tell? We may only trace for a 
little the development of these widely dif- 
fering phases, most of which are represented 
by the illustrations to this article. 

It has not been many years since the 
time when the dominating note of French 
sculpture, as indeed of the sculpture of 
the world, was a cold and dreary classicism. 
The subjects were the hackneyed ones of 
mythology or romance; the treatment 
academic and conventional. Only occa- 
sionally an artist arose who was strong 
enough to work along lines somewhat 
removed from the usual. Houdon, Clodion , 
David d'Angers, Rude, and Barye are 
examples of this revolt, for revolt it was, 
against the commonplace. 

It was the gospel of naturalism that 
these men preached, and if there is a domi- 
nant note in the French sculpture of 
todav it is the note of naturalism. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Houdon struck it, vaguely and tentatively, 
in his seated figure of f^o/taire in the 
Theatre Francais, Rude with greater cer- 
tainty in the Chant du Depart on the Arc 
du Triomphe. This remarkable group in 
high relief is of the French marching forth 
for the defense of the Republic. The 
energetic figures are furiously singing the 
Marseillaise, led on by the Goddess of 
War, who towers above them. This 
group is an unmistakable forerunner of 
modern naturalisin. Nothing could be in 
stronger contrast with it than the colossal 
relief on the pediment of the Madeleine, 
by Lemaire, of Christ the Judge of the 
World and Mary Magdalen interceding — 
a work of even later period than the Chant 
du Depart^ and one of the last examples of 
such vast religious compositions transferred 
from medieval to modern days. 

Contrasts became frequent as the nine- 
teenth century approached its close. On 
the one hand, Pradier, Guillaume, and 
Joufifroy, whose Young Girl telling her 
Secret to Venus is in the Louvre, taught 
and practiced a classic and refined art with- 
out inspiration and without strength ; on 
the other, the work of Carpeaux, Dubois, 
and Falguiere was full of a strenuousness 
and fervor which was far indeed from the 
traditions of the Institute. A middle 
course was that taken by Chapu and 
Aime Millet, whose work, always restrained 
and simple, was yet strong and massive in 
treatment. An interesting comparison is 
possible between the Joan of Arc of Chapu 
and that of Dubois. Chapu shows the 
"Maid" on her knees in simple peasant 
costume. Dubois chooses a moment of 
intense action. Which of the two is 
the more fitting and proper presentment 
of the character is a large question. 

Both of these men and indeed all of 
those that I have mentioned, be their dif- 
ferences never so marked, show to a 
greater or less extent the growth of the 
naturalistic idea. Weakness, and ignorance 
of anatomy and construction, became less 
and less common at the close of the cen- 
tury. A certain truth to the facts of 
nature was insisted upon. It was Rodin 

who said of Michel Angelo that he did a 
little anatomy in the evenings and used his 
chisel next day without a model — a rather 
scathing criticism of the great Italian, and 
probably unwarranted. Be that as it may, 
it is evident that the French sculptor of 
today is not content with doing a little 
anatomy over night. The cry is for real- 
ism at all hazards. Occasionally this is 
carried to extremes, as when we see farm 
laborers in marble, and nymphs and 
Olympian divinities in bronze, all treated 
with the saine painstaking adherence to the 
physical peculiarities of the model rather 
than to the requirements of the subject. 

Another phase of the realistic movement 
of the last few years, and a dangerous 
phase, is the debauched realism which 
aims at deception. The use of color in 
sculpture — either applied directly to the 
stone, or introduced by combining in a 
statue marbles and enamels of different 
tints — while its supporters can claim for it 
the precedent of the later Greek work, is 
nevertheless to be deplored as destructive 
of the purity of the medium and leading 
to a debased and imitative art. True art 
is not imitative, though imitation may be 
one of its initiatory processes, and though 
the ability on the part of the artist to 
imitate gives him that mastery over his 
medium that is essential. At the same 
time, while one may deplore the tenden- 
cies of this polychromatic sculpture, one 
is obliged in many cases to grant admira- 
tion to the technical mastery which has 
been displayed, and to the real beauty of 
some individual examples considered apart 
from the abstract canons of the artistic. 
One of the finest of these examples is 
The Unveiling of Nature of Louis Ernest 
Harrias. This really beautiful work is 
typical of the sensuous side of French art. 
No one can fail to be impressed with its 
beauty nor with the infinite cleverness 
which has made skilful use of veined 
marbles in the draperies. 

Allouard's The Grey Nun aiul Denys 
Puech's Reverie belong to precisely the 
same category of fin du siicle art — an art 
that would cause the earl.y academicians 





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to turn in their graves, and yet an art that 
is far from being without charm. Its 
revilers may allude to statues of this class 
as glorified mantel ornaments or as Articles 
de Paris — and in both similes there is a 
certain patness — but they cannot but admit 
their prodigious virtuosity. 

The greatest difficulty in the application 
of color to sculpture is in the exercise of 
sufficient restraint. There is a feeling 
that the canons of art are not outraged if 
some detail is left uncolored, or tinted in a 
strictly decorative manner. Thus Gerome, 
in his astonishing Joueuse de Boules in the 
Salon of 1902 — a life-size tinted figure of 
a woman, startling in its realism — gilded 
the hair, the one concession to conven- 
tionalism, and the one thing, in the opinion 
of many critics, which prevented the work 
from being altogether bad art. Similarly, 
it will be noted that in the just mentioned 
works of Barrias, Allouard, and Puech, 
the faces have been left in their natural 
marble, making a curious contrast with 
the feeling of reality conveyed by the 
colored drapery. Perhaps this is better 
art, but beyond question the ends of art 
would have been still better served if color 
had not been introduced at all. 

La Comedienne, by F. Berthoud, illustrates 
a phase slightly dififerent from that just de- 
scribed. It is Part nouveau — I use the phrase 
in its limited sense — as applied to sculpture. 

Aizelin's Judith is a good example of 
the present status of the academic school. 
Here is no art nouveau, and perhaps 
no inspiration. It is simply a strong 
though somewhat conventional treatment 
of a well known subject. To the same 
general class, though a little more modern 
in conception, belong the two Geromes, 
Christ Entering Jerusalem and The Flight 
/; Egypt. Strong and scholarly work it 
is, and typical of the better grade of French 
religious art of today. But the future of 
French art does not lie in this direction. 
Great religious art requires great devotional 
feeling at the inception, and that quality is 
conspicuous by its absence in this work of 
Gerome, as in all recent French attempts 
in this direction. 

Better promise is shown in the work of 
Alfred Boucher, whose In the Fields is 
here shown. Here is a realist who has no 
need of color for the expression of his 
talent, who has brought to the sculpture 
of humble life something of the sympathy 
which speaks from the canvasses of Millet. 

But there are two great contemporary 
figures to whom, more than to any of these, 
we look for the future of French sculpture. 
By his recent work Bartholome has de- 
monstrated his right to a place in the front 
rank of living sculptors. He is the one 
living Frenchman who has earned the right 
to stand beside Rodin — and greater praise 
it would be hard to give. For, far above 
the fads and the prettinesses of the art 
shops, Auguste Rodin stands as the great- 
est sculptor of his time. His is work that 
shows no evidence of catering to the taste 
of the moment, no resort to prettiness as 
a means of concealing artistic weakness. 
From the Bourgeois de Calais and the St. 
John to the lovely Danaide, here repro- 
duced ; from the much discussed Balzac to 
the unfinished Gate of Hades, the range of 
subject and treatment is tremendous ; but 
in all the examples of his work we may 
find the three essentials of the greatest 
art": strength, truth, and mystery. The 
last named. The Gate of Hades, was de- 
signed for the decoration of the front of the 
proposed Musee des Arts Decoratifs, a 
project now unfortunately abandoned. 
This colossal work, which may never be 
finished, represents the descent into the 
abyss of myriads of souls. It is this that 
Dalou, Rodin's fellow artist and himself a 
sculptor of no mean abilit}', terms "one 
of the most, if not the most original and 
astonishing pieces of sculpture of the 
nineteenth century." 

It is such work as this, the work of a 
great artistic personality struggling for 
expression, that makes us believe in the 
future. For, while Rodin and Bartholome 
live, French sculpture will not be without 












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nv AI.l.DUAKI) 







Mortimer Menpes, Colorist 


Mr. Menpes' career as a painter started 
at a very early age, in fact from the time 
when he was a baby in the nursery. He 
was born in Australia, where the chances 
of gaining any real artistic education were 
few and far between. But his marked 
individuality, and determination not to be 
discouraged by any difficulties that might 
arise, carried him through successfully. He 
was an impressionist in the cradle and 
could be kept quiet for hours with a pencil 
and paper instead of the conventional 
"soother." One day he produced with 
such fatal fidelity a lightning caricature of 
an old family friend who was visiting his 
parents that a lifelong friendship was shat- 
tered at a blow. The other babies around 
him were incapable of understanding his 
scheme of life, and he was driven to live 
his life alone in his own atmosphere. At 
school he did deadly execution among the 
drawing prizes, although he had no capac- 
ity for grasping ordinary lessons. He 
thought of nothing but form and color. 
He was a martyr to his sense of color, and 
consequently was continually being hit over 
the head by his master on account of some 
sketch he had done on the edges of his 
copy-book or slate. Thus he grew up to 
be an artist. But an artist's life in Aus- 
tralia was an impossibility, and therefore he 
drifted, naturally enough, to Europe — to 

In London, with no friends in the world, 
he found himself at last in the South 
Kensington Schools. After capturing the 
Poynter prize for the best study from the 
antique, he suddenly asked himself a co- 
nundrum. Why should plaster casts be 
reproduced with black chalk on white 


paper ? He pondered it well, gave it up, 
and took to studying color from nature. 
During the brief period that he worked at 
the South Kensington Art School he con- 
formed as little as possible to regulations 
that seemed to him of no practical value, 
and paid a very small degree of attention 
to the science and art department. A 
certain amount of drawing from the 
antique, a little study of anatomy, and 
some drawing and painting from life 
occupied his school course. 

Mr. Menpes' real training began later 
in life when he emigrated to Brittany and 
took up his abode in Pont Aven. There 
he found himself among a group of the 
newer lights of the French and American 
schools and in just the atmosphere to 
stimulate a timid young artist. Here he 
had unlimited chances of widening, by 
daily argument, his knowledge of technical 
problems. There were men who painted 
in dots, men who painted in spots, some 
who always carried a Maori stick to give 
them inspiration, others who never painted 
saints until they were quite drunk and had 
bathed their faces in ether — men whose 
theory it was that you must ruin your 
digestion before you could paint a master- 
piece. For two or three years, with only 
brief intervals of absence, he'remained on 
this battlefield of creeds, working steadily 
and indefatigably and gaining daily more 
fixity of purpose and sureness of hand. 
During this period he fell under what was 
perhaps the only influence that has ever 
strongly aflfected his individuality. For 
the first time in his life he met a man who 
called himself the Master. And so he 
was — a living Old Master: James McNeil 



The Booklovers Magazine 


Whistler. He found in him an artist 
whom he could respect, a magnificent 
innovator with courage to assert, and 
rare skill in technical statement. Here 
was a man experimenting, inventing, 
breaking away from rules and traditions, 
but always keeping in view the purest ideal 
of art. And it was hardly surprising that 
Mr. Menpes should have learned much 
from his association with Whistler, and 
that his skill in the use of materials, his 
knowledge of oil and water color, and the 
technique of etching should have grown 
rapidly under such supervision. He was 
already beginning to exhibit at the Royal 
Academy and at the Grosvenor Gallery, 
and his pictures were well treated and 
favorably noticed. He was recognized as 
one of the coming men with claims upon 
the public. Menpes sat at Whistler's feet 
with an artistic reverence that has never 
grown less, though their harmonies at a 
later period ceased to blend. 

About this time he heard everyone rav- 
ing about Japan. He left them raving 
and went there and began to make his own 
name instead of dwelling in the shadow of 
another's. He spent some months in that 
artistic paradise, and recorded with felici- 
tous fidelity the characteristics of the 
country, its charm and variety and the 
picturesque detail with which it abounds. 
He was the first English artist to visit 
Japan, and he was resolved to get at the 
very heart of Japanese life in so far as it 
appeals to the artist. He was privileged 
to come in contact with some of the best 
painters in Japan, with one master in par- 
ticular, Kyosai, one of the greatest Japan- 
ese painters of the day. And, curiously 
enough, Kyosai's methods closely resem- 
bled those of Whistler. Both were striving 
for artistic perfection, and unconsciously 
both were traveling the same way. Mr. 
Menpes returned to England after his 
Japanese visit with a series of pictures 
which were the chief attractions of the art 
season. This daring departure on his own 
account led to a series of world tours. He 
did his own work and got a great deal of 
enjoyment out of it. 

The next sketching grounds Mr. Men- 
pes selected were those of India, Burma, 
and Cashmere. His ambition was to give 
a true impression of the brilliancy of the 
Indian sunlight and of the dazzling atmo- 
spheric efifects. To accomplish this effect 
he found that the only method of painting 
in oil color was to apply the pigment to 
the canvas in such a way as to resemble 
pastel. He found India to be a country 
which demanded the full range of his pal- 
ette, and even then, he said, a sheet of 
Whatman's paper seemed more brilliant 
by comparison. Nevertheless, Mr. Men- 
pes succeeded in suggesting the curious 
shimmer of heat and the blaze of light 
which, in the tropics, bleaches even the 
most vivid colors and reduces them almost 
to a harmony of warm grays, and his exhibi- 
tion of Indian pictures was very successful. 
From that time onwards his exhibitions 
have been practically annual events. Each 
one has been inspired by an ambition to 
solve some special problem of execution. 

He went to Venice after this visit to 
India and lived there for six months. He 
painted the superb city of the Doges under 
every possible aspect, bringing back with 
him pictures of Venice in early dawn, at 
mid-day, in the evening, at night, in rain, 
and in sun. It was difficult to decide at 
which time of the day she appeared the 
most beautiful. To Mr. Menpes Venice 
appeared as a revelation, a scintillating 
opal. He worked at this period with stiff 
dry color, driving it forcibly on to a white 
ground, so as to allow the glittering under 
surface to shine through the thin over- 
laying pigments. 

Menpes' next painting trip was through 
France, Spain, and Morocco. Paris had 
its charms for him, but the country proved 
still more attractive, and he brought back 
with him many studies of the Seine, of 
river barge life, and the marvellous color 
efifects produced at all times on the river, 
as well as gray landscapes with slim ave- 
nues of carefully trimmed trees and well 
wooded forests with their magnificent 
autumn carpets of salmon leaves mounted 
on silver stems. Here his pictures showed 









The Booklovers Magazine 


the same intention to make the color 
appear to swim in a luminous atmosphere, 
but instead of using dry pigment he mixed 
it with petroleum so that it might flow 
easily and smoothly over the tempera 
ground and present something of the deli- 
cacy of water color without losing the 
richness and permanency of oils. In Spain, 
unlike India, Italy, or the Holy Land — 
where the sun was a colored sun and the 
trees golden — he found that the sun was 
white and the trees keen, sharp, and silvery. 
To reproduce this brilliancy with pigment 
was no easy task. In Morocco he found it 
difficult to work under a sky which looked 
a deep and purple blue, but which was in 
reality so light that the whitest paper in 
shadow was dark beside it. 

A very marked departure resulted from 
his visit to Mexico in the following year, 
for here his chief inspiration was not 
derived from aerial delicacies and subtleties 
of gradation but from chromatic combina- 
tions extraordinary in their strength and 
brilliancy. To carry out the idea that 
impressed him most vividly he confined 
himself almost entirely to twilight and 
night effects, ignoring the daytime with its 
glare and whiteness, and arranged his pic- 
tures on a scheme of jewel-like glitter. 
The white tempera ground again played its 
important part, but the pigments imposed 
upon it were chosen especially with regard 
to their vehement assertiveness, and were 
kept absolutely transparent. Petroleum 
was the medium used, but each canvas as 
it was finished was given a skin of amber 
varnish so that no diminution of its intense 
color might be caused by any drying in or 
dulling of the surface. The collection, as 
a whole, was one of the most remarkable 
of the artist's achievements — an experi- 
ment of which the success was beyond 
question and a memorable display of acute 
observation and original endeavor. 

Mr. Menpes' next exhibition, held last 
spring, was a second group of Japanese 
subjects. It consisted of water color draw- 
ings of ceremonial processions and studies 
of Japanese life in oil, water color, and 
black and white. A curious manner of 

using opaque pigments was illustrated by 
an application of water color that would 
give at once the brilliancy of pastel and 
the depth and solidity of oil. The handling 
and brushvvork of the chief compositions 
showed great vigor and a mastery of exec- 
ution. Then came several successful 
exhibitions, "Beautiful Women," "War 
Impressions," "World's Children," and, 
lastly, "The Durbar." "War Impres- 
sions" started the idea for writing a book, 
a record in color of the war in South 
Africa. The sales of this volume were so 
large that Air. Menpes was encouraged to 
produce three more books, all in color — 
one on Japan, one entitled World's Pictures, 
and, lastly, World's Children, with a hun- 
dred illustrations in color that are fascinat- 
ing glimpses of the little ones of different 
nationalities all over the world. 

Last winter Mr. Menpes took another 
trip to India and was there during the 
famous Delhi Durbar. Since his return 
to England an elaborate book on the 
subject has been compiled, which con- 
tains one hundred illustrations in color. 
These colored books have all been most 

Mr. Menpes has now started making 
the blocks for his pictures and printing 
them himself. He feels that there are 
great possibilities for reproductions in color 
if the medium is adapted to the process. 
He has now formed his own staff of five — 
etchers, operators, and printers — and has 
clearly demonstrated that work done by 
such methods is a thousand times better 
than those adopted by the ordinary profes- 
sional engravers. Mr. Menpes' energy 
and enterprise are untiring. He has sur- 
mounted serious technical difficulties by un- 
expected devices, and disentangled himself 
from artistic perplexities that might well 
have caused a less determined innovator to 
admit defeat. 

Mr. Menpes' forthcoming book is to 
be on Whistler, the master whom he has 
always looked up to with such reverence 
and admiration. This work will be most 
interesting to him, for it will be in every 
sense a labor of love. 



Fenelon-A Benevolent Strategist 


In the latter half of the seventeenth 
century, when Louis XIV was wantonly 
consuming the resources of France and 
regarding the blaze of magnificence as the 
glow of his personal glory; when Madame 
de Montespan was departing from Ver- 
sailles with her baggage and Madame de 
Maintenon was replacing her unsanctified 
charms with a certain amount of spiritual 
sobriety; when those courtiers who sym- 
pathetically coughed if the king had a cold 
were preparing to follow their benign 
model into his senile and belated mania 
for piety — Fenelon, that master of finesse 
who wrought out his purposes amid sweet- 
ness and light, came insinuatingly into 

Fenelon's character was full of para- 
doxes, of the contradictions of opposite 
qualities. At once pliant and obstinate, 
spontaneous and cautious, revolutionary 
and conservative, his nature in the main 
breathed out a delicious perfume of affec- 
tion to all the world. He belongs to that 
class of men whom optimists instinctively 
adore and cynics habitually suspect. The 
record of his life reveals the exquisite cul- 
ture of the worldly gentleman united with 
the exalted devotion of the saint; and yet, 
while one reads his plea of love for the 
universal brother, and even observes his 
unfaltering practice of the principle, one 
cannot rid oneself of the haunting sugges- 
tion that the gentleman is bidding for 
popularity and the saint is playing a dis- 
creet game of self-seeking. He never does 
anything to be censured severely, but he 
fails to convince one of his undivided sin- 
cerity. Fortune favored him inwardly; 
the itinerary of his personal ambition ran 

directly along the road to honor and 
heaven. He was forced into no battles, 
no compromises, with conscience; his mo- 
tives, therefore, were intrenched behind 
deeds of righteousness, and one cannot 
impugn them without a sense of uncer- 
tainty and possible injustice. 

Saint-Simon, that judicial Boswell of 
Louis' court, though forced to admit the 
charm of Fenelon's graciousness, writes 
him down as a place-hunter. His piety, 
intimates the author of the famous 
Memoirs, was adaptable to all men and 
circumstances, and he went from door to 
door, during his early years, begging for 
preferment. Educated for the church, he 
applied first to the Jesuits, then to the Jan- 
senists, at last to the Sulpicians, through 
whose influence finally he obtained the 
chance of a lifetime, the chance of becom- 
ing the preceptor of the young Duke of 
Burgundy, grandson of the king and heir- 
presumptive to the throne. It was a great 
opportunity and Fenelon was undoubtedly 
■ the man to meet it ; and he did so, using 
it for the benefit of the duke, of France, 
of humanity, and possibly, beneath all else, 
for the benefit of Fenelon. 

Once brought into the royal household, 
he ingratiated himself into the spiritual 
counsels of Madame de Maintenon — who 
had now become the king's oracle — and 
his subtle audacity, under the impulse of 
his craving for domination, even ventured 
to harbor designs on the king's own con- 
science. If we accept with Saint-Simon 
the darker interpretation of his character, 
we must conceive him to be a self-seeker 
of amazing guile; for, while amiably grap- 
pling the soul of the future young mon- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

arch in his octopus affections, and instruct- 
ing his ward in the obUgations of a noble 
sovereign, he cherished at the same time 
the stupendous project of reducing the 
prince to mental servitude and of becoming 
the masterful Richelieu of his reign. 

Whatever his motives, he indisputably 
did obtain full command of the royal 
youth, and he did transform his character, 
rhe story is a psychological romance of 
education. The Duke of Burgundy, when 
Fenelon took hold of him, was a passion- 
ate boy, subject to wild fits of rage, the 
easy slave of the vices, and by tempera- 
ment savage and arrogant. His preceptor 
harnessed him in the light reins of sweet 
reasonableness, made the road to knowl- 
edge as attractive as a rose lane, and won 
his heart with an enchanter's power. 
With that once in his possession, Fenelon 
instilled into the boy's mind his own 
advanced ideas about the duties of mon- 
archs, the rights of the people, and the 
welfare of nations. In time, yielding to 
the indirect persuasiveness of his teacher's 
affectionate personality, the duke became 
as docile as a broken colt — some say as 
weak as a broken-spirited colt. 

This darker estimate of Fenelon's pur- 
pose is certainly gratuitous. Sainte-Beuve 
raises a protest against Saint-Simon's con- 
temporary near-sightedness. And, in truth, 
the complete relations of Fenelon and the 
duke, while they demonstrate the astute- 
ness of the former's mind and reveal the 
subtlety of his methods of mental domina- 
tion, exonerate him from the suspicion of 
being a sycophant or a time-server. Fene- 
lon may have been a self-seeker; but, if 
so, his ambition boded well for the good of 
France. If he sought for the power of a 
Richelieu, it was to govern with a more 
humane and benevolent zeal. Louis, all- 
inclusive despot, stood for the divine right 
and absolute authority of kings; he subor- 
dinated the whole nation to his imperious 
caprices, and indulged himself in one of 
the most extravagant and purblind reigns 
that have decorated and disgraced the his- 
tory of monarchical government. Fenelon 
saw that this debauch of magnificence was 

bringing sure ruin upon France, and he 
quietly educated the heir-presumptive into 
those larger, humaner, more enlightened 
ideals of government which were to be 
established a century later by a revolution. 
"I am the State," asserted Louis in auto- 
cratic vanity. But his grandson, trained 
in Fenelon's school of politics, astounded 
the court one day with the strange declara- 
tion that "the king was made for his sub- 
jects, and not the subjects for the king." 
The man who thus taught, and who thus 
threw down the gauntlet in the royal 
house, was certainly no time-server. 

The Adventmes of Telemachus, Fenelon's 
chief contribution to literature, was one of 
the effective instruments of his instruction. 
An account of the wanderings of Ulysses' 
son in search of his father, it purports, like 
Gulliver's Travels, to be only a fanciful 
tale; but, in its deeper signification, it is 
an allegorical study of the ideal prince for 
modern times. In this fascinating book, 
which, like Gulliver's Travels again, a 
child reads for the adventurous story and 
an adult for its political wisdom, we see 
that Fenelon was a precursor of Rousseau 
and the revolution. He did not indeed 
go so far as to advocate democracy and the 
inalienable authority of the people; but, in 
direct antagonism to Louis' autocracy, he 
argued for such a decentralization of power 
as should enable the nation at large to 
share in public affairs; and he taught that 
the ruler was under obligation to measure 
up to the standard of righteousness. 

Such an attitude as this, in an age which 
took the contrary, is sufficient proof that 
Fenelon was no crier of a popular cause. 
He was an original thinker. A brilliant, 
progressive, independent intellect, he was 
not, on the other hand, of that fibrous 
tenacity which hangs on for the sake of 
convictions. If he had deep-rooted con- 
victions, he stood for them only until his 
prudence, the chief characteristic of his 
valor, bade him retreat. And here we see 
the unique, triumphant quality of his 
finesse. In the midst of a defeat he could 
turn a seeming humiliation into a source 
of personal glory. 

The Booklovers Magazine 


His battle with the court preacher, 
Bossuet, concerning the doctrine of Quiet- 
ism — the most dramatic incident in his 
biograph\ — is the best illustration of this 
Protean phase of his character. Toward 
the close of the century, Louis, irritated by 
Fenelon's intellectual hostility but fully 
aware of his wide popularity, appointed 
him Archbishop of Cambrai. The apparent 
honor was tantamount to dismissal from 
Versailles in disgrace. Fenelon, obeying 
the royal mandate, however, went into his 
episcopal exile. Several years before he 
had become interested in Madame Guyon, 
an apostle of a new doctrine of Quietism, 
which taught that the highest life of the 
soul is found in prayer, and that prayer is 
passive receptivity to the divine effluence ; 
a cult, as one can readily see, which sub- 
ordinates the value of good works and 
leads to mystical inactivity. Through 
Fenelon's influence the patronage of the 
religiously-minded de Maintenon was ex- 
tended to Madame Guyon ; but when she 
began to drift toward patent heresy she 
was deserted by her patroness, and ulti- 
mately was called to trial. Fenelon, after 
the examination that followed, published 
in her defense his Maxims of the Saints, a 
book which, as Petit de Julleville remarks, 
is a defense of mysticism in theory. 
Bossuet, once his friend, representing the 
other trend of religious practice and re- 
garding the Maxims as dangerous, issued 
his condemnation. A war of pamphlets 
followed — one of the most important theo- 
logical controversies of modern times. 
Bossuet, man of directness and force, was 
the heavyweight in the contest; while 
Fenelon, light and quick on his feet, skil- 
ful in tactics, shifted his positions so warily 
as to elude direct attack. When finally 
Bossuet delivered his blow, after the 
battleground had been transferred to the 
Holy See at Rome, Fenelon made it 
appear that his opponent was a bully strik- 
ing a defenceless man. Bossuet won the 
decision, but Fenelon was the virtual victor. 
He had played on the emotions of the 
audience with such tact, he had maintained 
such graceful dignity in a fight, and he 

went back to his diocese submitting to 
the decision of his superior with such be- 
nignant humility and imperturbable sweet- 
ness of temper, that his defeat gave him a 
halo. He was more popular than ever. 

The last years of his life were spent at 
Cambrai, where, though possessing a mag- 
nificent palace and a princely income, he 
gave all his time and attention to the alle- 
viation of misery in his parish. Fenelon 
was one of the first of our modern human- 
itarians. "I love my family better than 
myself," he proclaimed; "my country 
better than my family, and humanity better 
than my country." His cry was, " Enlarge 
your heart!" and in argument his persua- 
sive power appealed to the sentiments 
rather than to the reason. By an instinct, 
which emanated partly from vanity and 
partly from philanthropy, he courted the 
good will of all the world, even of lackeys. 
While at Versailles he was under tempta- 
tion to indulge in his natural genius for 
intrigue; but, once detached from his 
dreams of power, once reconciled to the 
exile at Cambrai and busied among his 
parishioners, his figure looms up bright and 
large in lovable dignity. He was instant 
in service to high and low, and through 
his deeds of charity he became the idol of 
the people and the object of deference to 
enemies. When Marlborough and Prince 
Eugene passed through his territory, on 
their way to Blenheim, they gave strict 
orders that the estates of Fenelon should 
be left undisturbed. He died in 171 5, six 
months before Louis, leaving a reputation 
which, like the luster of highly polished 
metal, changes with the point of view. 
To some he is a saint; to others he is the 
enlightened priest of a feudal age; to still 
others he is the forerunner of democracy, 
with its liberty and open-hearted sympa- 
thies; while to certain latter-day critics he 
seems only a wily nondescript, feminine 
and sentimental in temperament, who, 
being the friend of all the world, is 
really the friend of nobody. 

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But yesterday some tons of iron ore lay 
embedded in the drifts of Wisconsin, some 
pounds of copper in the hills of Montana, 
some seams of coal in Pennsylvania. 
Today these substances, more or less 
transformed, are being hurried to the 
Baldwin Locomotive Works. Tomorrow 
they will be converted, regenerated, corre- 
lated, and crystalized. At eventide the 
breath of motion will be blown into the 
nostrils of seven leviathan locomotives 
which will go forth to the uttermost parts 
of the earth. One will go to the prairies 
of the Southwest, where it will haul a mile 
of cars laden with corn ; another will climb 
the Andes to penetrate the former haunts 
of the Incas ; another will haul almond- 
eyed Japanese past the century-crusted 
temples of Buddha ; one will pull a train 
de luxe across the frozen steppes of 
Siberia; another will transport Soudanese 
to the tomb of El Mahdi; one will take 
American cotton goods to the shores of 
Victoria-Nyanza ; and one will haul a train- 
load of pilgrims under the very walls of 
Jerusalem, waking the echoes in the Gar- 
den of Gethsemane. 

If the time limit mentioned were strictly 
accurate, if it were a mere magician's 
wand that converted raw material into 
iron horses, we should say it was a miracle. 
But is it less miraculous that this metamor- 
phosis requires a few weeks, or months, 

instead of days? For the locomotive is 
more than a thing of iron shreds and 
patches. It is a living, almost a sentient 
organism, the crux of transportation which 
is so great a factor in civilization, a maker 
and breaker of fortunes, a conservator of 
social forces, a gladiator in war, and an 
emblematized cornucopia in peace. A 
wonderful transformation has been wrought 
by the mind of man, of many men who 
have hammered and punched, heated and 
pressed, moulded and bent, polished and 
painted into the raw materials those new 
and essential intellectual and moral quali- 
ties that give the whole enduring life and 
power. The process seems more than 
physical, for, though a locomotive cannot 
speak nor think, it can be made to respond 
to the slightest control of man, and 
becomes itself only less than a sentient 
being. It is not the material in it that is 
of value. The locomotive is, in effect, a 
psychological development, an abstraction 
embedded in metal. 

The American Indian spent untold cen- 
turies on this continent, and made abso- 
lutely no impression upon it because he had 
no beast of burden save his squaw, and her 
limitations were too great for progress. 
The Caucasian invader, inside of a half- 
century, transformed America into a garden 
because he made for himself servants to do 
his bidding. If "the horse is the best 
friend of man," the superlative position 
belongs to the iron species. The locomo- 
tive is the chief agency of democracy. It 



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is the leveler of ranks, the annihilator of 
space, the enemy of sectionalism, and the 
goddess of plenty. A century ago the man 
who had to take a trip of two hundred 
miles made his will, wept in the bosom of 
his family, primed his pistol, and resigned 
himself to the mercies of an inscrutable 
Providence. Today he takes a trip of a 
thousand miles in ease and comfort with 
less concern than is involved in the selec- 
tion of proper material tor a waistcoat. A 
century ago a ton of freight was moved 
thirty miles a day with difficulty, and at a 
cost of ten cents a mile. Today railroad 
managers think regretfully of the time 
when their returns averaged a cent a ton a 
mile — days never to return. Last year the 
average cost was less than eight-tenths of a 
cent per ton per mile. If it had been one 
tenth more per ton per mile the added gain 
would have amounted to $150,000,000, 
or almost one-fourth of the actual net 
earnings from all sources. 

Or to make the point more impressive, 
take from your pocket a copper cent. 
Consider how small would be its addition 
to the cost of transporting a ton of freight 
one hundred miles. Yet if the railroads 
last year had received this added revenue, 
it would have increased their net earnings 
by the sum of $15,000,000. The loco- 
motive which, by hauling more cars, can 
earn this added ten-thousandth part of a 
dollar net per ton for each mile, is a finan- 
cial winner, beloved of railway managers. 

The largest institution in the world for the 
manufacture of locomotives is the Baldwin 
Works of Philadelphia. Here almost 
one-half of the product of the country is 
manufactured. It is singular in many 
respects; in none more so, in these days 
of concentration, than in the fact that it 
is not a corporation. The firm name is 
Burnham, Williams & Co., and includes 
seven partners having interests of various 
amounts. Every one of these men began 
at the bottom and worked his way up to 
leadership, and not one of them ever put a 
cent into the firm. They put in immense 
amounts of intelligently directed energy, 
and have taken out millions of dollars in 

profits. The plant has grown like a snow- 
ball, and has furnished its own capital — a 
complete justification from a commercial 
and financial standpoint. It employs 
over eighteen thousand men in all, 
and has a pay-roll of over a million 
dollars a month, paid invariably in gold 
and silver coin. The firm has never had 
any labor difficulty; on the contrary, every 
employee is imbued with the spirit of the 
works — honesty, industry, and a fair field 
for all. The coming owners of the prop- 
erty are now lads in overalls and jumpers, 
delving in grease; or young men poring 
over drafting boards and office desks. The 
superintendents and foremen are Baldwin 
men, and their successors are now working 
under their eyes. 

The number of men employed exceeds 
that of any private organization in the 
world devoted to a single industry. The 
Krupp works at Essen employ more, but 
that institution is a microcosm performing 
all sorts of functions and producing any- 
thing that will destroy life and property. 
At the Baldwin's only locomotives are 
born, and these are for the healing of the 
nations. The American Locomotive Com- 
pany has combined eight great factories, 
and these together about equal the output 
of the Baldwin plant alone. There are 
immense corporations, like the Steel Trust, 
with more employees, but no private 
partnership with a roll comparable to this. 

The works were founded in 1832 by 
Matthias W. Baldwin, a jeweler of Philadel- 
phia, who had been forced by dulness in 
his trade to take up that of steam-engine 
building. In 1831 he made a toy loco- 
motive for exhibition purposes, and the 
next year built "Old Ironsides," a service- 
able engine, for the Philadelphia, German- 
town and Norristown Railway. At the 
first test it failed to come up to what the 
company claimed as specifications, and 
after a long squabble a settlement was made 
at $3,500, or $500 less than contract price. 
In constructing this Mr. Baldwin had little 
precedent to guide him. He had only 
seen crude descriptions of the mode of 
construction abroad, and had examined 


The Booklovers Magazine 

some parts of an English engine imported 
but not put together. It was in many 
respects an original conception. Eventually 
this engine became the fastest and strongest 
locomotive in the country, attaining a 
speed of sixty miles an hour, though at 
first it was looked upon as a curiosity, and 
was only used to haul passengers in fair 
weather ; in rainy weather horses hauled 
the cars as formerly. Discouraged by the 
problems he had to solve, by some defects 
which soon appeared, and by difficulty in 
getting his money, Mr. Baldwin at one 
time announced that this was his last 
locomotive. He lived until. 1866, having 
constructed his thousandth locomotive in 
1862. That output of thirty years was 
doubled in the twelve months of 1903. 
There have been great extensions of the 
plant, until :iow it covers eighteen acres in 
Philadelphia, and many more at Burnham, 
near Lewistown, Pa., where the heavy 
forging is done. Of the employees who 
were associated with Mr, Baldwin in his 
early years, Mr. Burnham, the present 
senior partner, alone survives. Additions 
have been made to the firm from the 
young men who have developed ability, 
and whose brains have been the capital of 
the concern. There are no titles what- 
ever, and each partner devotes his energy 
to that special division of the work for 
which he is best suited. 

Everyone is familiar with the appearance 
of a locomotive, but it is doubtful if many 
have any real idea of how it is constructed 
or how it runs. This is no place for any 
technical descriptions, but a few words 
here may illuminate what is to follow. Like 
the human body the locomotive contains 
what maybe called legs, lungs, a stomach, 
and a backbone. Brains it has none, 
except as supplied by the engineer ; but so 
much brain power has been hammered 
into it during construction that it answers 
to its governing power with all the swift- 
ness and accuracy of the human system. 
In the accompanying designs the actual part 
described is drawn in heavy black lines; 
the rest of the locomotive is shown in 
mere outline. 

The legs {Fig. i) are the wheels which 
carry the whole weight. An ordinary 
express engine has two pairs of driving 
wheels ; the largest freight locomotives have 
five pairs. In addition there are pilot 
wheels in front and trailers behind. 

Upon these wheels is superimposed the 
backbone {Fig. 2), an iron or steel frame 
running the wholelength of the locomotive, 
on which is placed almost the entire weight, 
which it in turn distributes on the wheels, 
the drivers taking the greatest share to 
get the necessary friction, without which 
the wheels would simply revolve and not 
move forward. The frame consists of 
two sections like the accompanying illus- 
tration, some four feet apart and bolted 
together at various places. In the longest 
locomotives these frames are of three sec- 
tions bolted together. The wheels are set 
in these so as to have some play to permit 
going around sharp curves. 

The cylinder castings are composed of 
two enormous sections firmly bolted to- 
gether, containing the cylinders and valves, 
and rest on the pilot wheels (/"z^. J ). In 
the cylinders the actual power is developed ; 
and, with their appurtenances, they may 
be called the lungs. 

The stomach {Fig. 4) is the largest part, 
and gives the general appearance to the 
whole. It is nothing but an immense 
boiler with a firebox under it. 

This, in brief, is the machine which the 
Baldwin's build at the rate of about seven a 
day, or two thousand a year. They vary in 
size from the little "dinkey," used on a nar- 
row gauge track for switching in a factory 
yard, to the leviathan weighing 450,000 
pounds, including the loaded tender. The 
types are various and constantly changing. 
Compared with the standard locomotive 
of ten years ago for any particular pur- 
pose, that of today shows many changes, 
principally, to the ordinary beholder, in 
increased size. The modern standard 
freight locomotive of the Santa Fe type 
compared with the best of thirty years 
ago, when already we claimed world 
superiority, is as a mastiff to a fox terrier. 
The visitor to this mighty forge of 






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The Booklovers Magazine 

Vulcan, the Baldwin Works, unless he be 
a trained mechanic, comes away with con- 
fused ideas and a throbbing headache. 
He is conscious of a saturnalia of sounds, 
a debauchery of the eardrums, and an 
army of workmen in a wilderness of ma- 
chinery engaged in every sort of function 
— pounding, welding, forging, planing, 
reaming, boring, and riveting, and in some 
mysterious manner producing a locomotive. 
He remembers blast furnaces pouring out 
rivers of molten metal into immense cast- 
ing boxes; boilers three stories high being 
put together by magical methods ; complete 
locomotives whisking through the air, 
apparently flying on invisible pinions; sons 
of Anak swinging hammers with rhythmic 
grace — all this and more. But he is little 
informed as to how this mighty army per- 
forms its varied tasks with such precision 
that at the end of the day the tale of seven 
completed locomotives is made up. No 
attempt will be made here to describe 
construction in details. That would be 
interesting to the expert, but "caviare to 
the general." Yet there are glimpses of 
this establishment that are of dramatic 
interest, and which must appeal to the 
dullest imagination. 

If the visitor wishes to follow the de- 
velopment of the locomotive from its 
inception, he will begin at the drafting 
room. Here are seen one hundred and 
fifty draftsmen busily at work. It can 
be fairly said that the creative work is 
done here, and that when the plans pass 
to the construction department the most 
difficult part of the task is accomplished. 
The man in the street has an idea that 
machinery is built according to some 
general plan by a lot of mechanics, 
who cut and fit to suit, who make 
changes as they think proper, and 
especially work out improvements with 
hammer and anvil. This is a fiction. 
Every locomotive — even down to the 
smallest part — is drawn on the boards by 
draftsmen before the first blow is struck. 
If a mechanic has an idea by which he 
can improve any part, he works it out 
with pen and ink down to* the minutest 

detail. When his plans are completed, 
the work is practically ended. This is 
why, as was stated previously, a locomotive 
is simply an idea clothed in metal. All the 
serious labor is done in the workshop of 
the brain, and this is why the firm takes 
to itself partners from among the men who 
have developed capacity to think out things 
and to create them in the mind before they 
assume physical shape. For, paradoxical 
as it may .seem, the only great mechanic 
is the man of imagination, the seer who 
divines the non-existent and brings it into 

Every locomotive has its number, and 
each set of plans sent to the shop carries 
that number, which is affixed to every 
part. Each part also has its individual 
number. There are hundreds of these 
plans for a single locomotive, all drawn to 
a scale; and so perfect are they, and so 
expert the construction, that the thou- 
sands of parts move with equal steps — 
through what seems a labyrinth — to the 
erecting shop, where all unite at a given 
time and fit perfectly. These plans are 
carefully filed away, and if at any time a part 
breaks or wears out, be it in Manchuria 
or Central Africa, a cabled order giving 
only certain cabalistic numbers will insure 
the swift delivery of a substitute that will 
fit exactly. The writer was once in an 
accident, in the forests of Wisconsin, 
where two Kakhvin locomotives of the 
sam.e type, built from the same plans, had 
a head-on collision. Out of the wreck of 
the two one complete locomotive was 
made, and one train proceeded. All the 
parts in locomotives of the same type are 
made according to the same templets, and 
are interchangeable. Every workman, who 
does anything to any numbered piece of 
work, has a sheet upon which he writes the 
number of hours he has labored and the 
rate. When a locomotive is completed it 
is known to the cent what it has cost for 
materials and labor. Much of the work 
is done on the piece system, the mechan- 
ics earning according to their rapidity and 

Following somewhat the order of the 



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The Booklovers Magazine 


various parts enumerated, let us take a 
rapid glance at important features in con- 
struction. The visitor first enters the 
foundry, an immense gloomy cavern redo- 
lent with the tang of Mother Earth. It 
is lined on one side with blast furnaces, 
and the floor is covered with casting boxes 
in which are the matrices, formed in mold- 
ing sand. The workmen move about like 
Nibelungs guarding the treasures in the 
caverns of the Rhine. Just outside is the 
raw material, where all sorts of scrap and 
pig-iron are used to fill the cupolas of the 
furnaces. It is an interesting sight to see 
an immense crane pick up a heavy ball, 
weighing tons, drop it on the scrap, and 
then hoist a great barrow of broken mate- 
rial to the top of the furnace, where it is 
plunged into the seething vortex below. 
When this mixture is properly melted, and 
the chemical constituents found correct, 
valves are opened and the hundreds of 
casting boxes are filled rapidly. 

The drive wheels are taken to a shop 
where the holes for the axle are bored, and 
these are made slightly smaller than the 
axle itself. A powerful hydraulic press 
forces the axle into the wheels until they 
are on just as tight as if the whole were cast 
or forged in a single piece. Then wheels 
and axle are put in an immense lathe, and 
the rims are trimmed down smooth, ready 
for the tires, which are slightly less in diam- 
eter than the wheel itself. The forged 
steel tires, made elsewhere, are then heated 
until they expand so as to fit easily on the 
wheel; then a stream of cold water is 
turned on, the tire shrinks, and is as firmly 
fixed on the wheel as if welded. It can 
never come ofi until the tire is heated 
again. The drivers and other wheels are 
now taken to the erecting shop, placed in 
position on a track, and the legs are 

It is interesting to note the progressive 
development of the castings for the cylin- 
ders, which pass through many processes 
before they are ready. In the largest com- 
pound locomotives the two great castings 
bolted together, which form the front, 
weigh nine tons, or as much as many an 

entire locomotive of two generations ago. 
The cylinders are reamed and bored out 
by many intricate machines, one of which 
bores three holes at once. When these 
castings have passed through all the stages, 
are bolted together, are carried by an ingen- 
ious " go-devil " — called a walking crane — 
to the erecting shop, and placed on the 
pilot-wheel truck — the lungs and legs are 

The frames are cast or forged at Burn- 
ham, where most of the heavy work of this 
sort is performed. The two parallel steel 
pieces — after being trimmed and punched 
and perforated for all sorts of parts — are 
bolted to the cylinders, firmly braced in 
various places along their length and at 
the rear end, and eventually placed directly 
on the drive and trailer wheels. When the 
boiler has been placed on this frame, and 
the wheels inserted, the general outline of 
the locomotive is complete. 

The making of the boiler affords the 
most dramatic scenes in the shops, and 
furnishes a test for the nerves of the 
onlooker. These boilers are made of 
plates of steel which are rolled up and 
riveted together in sections. In one corner 
of the shop a man is seen, with a diagram 
before him, drawing with chalk on an 
immense rectangular steel plate a lot of 
lines seemingly in all directions, until it 
looks as if he were designing Brobdignagian 
cobwebs. After him comes a brisk work- 
man with hammer and steel punch. At 
every intersection of two lines he makes a 
slight dent with his tool. In a few 
moments he has skipped over the immense 
plate, and with unerring aim has marked 
where every rivet hole is to be. The plate 
is suddenly whisked up into the air and 
carried by a traveling electric crane to 
another corner where are the punching 
machines. The machines punch rivet 
holes through the plate with as much ease 
as if it were made of cheese. All the men 
have to do is to see the plate centered 
properly, and in an instant there is a hole. 
Down from somewhere in the mists above 
comes another giant hand and the plate is 
gone again. Its destination depends upon 

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the particular part of the boiler it is to 
form. If an ordinary section, it is passed 
between triple rollers and curved as easily 
as if it were a sheet of paper. If it is the 
rear end of the boiler, it has to go through 
a most interesting process, one that excites 
the imagination of the visitor. It is now 
perfectly fiat; but it must form the end 
and part of the sides of the boiler, and to 
fill such a function it must be pressed into 
a new shape. This is done by heating it 
white hot in a furnace in front of an 
immense hydraulic press. Tremendous 
heat is necessary to raise the plate to the 
proper temperature, and around the witches' 
brew men stand noting the exact progress 
of the plate in its fiery bed. In the press 
are placed reciprocating steel dies, one above 
and one below, molded so as to give the 
exact shape required for the plate. When 
all is ready the furnace door opens, an iron 
hand reaching in seizes the plate, draws it 
on to the press, the foreman moves a lever, 
and in a few seconds the seething, shim- 
mering, almost molten plate is noiselessly 
forced into shape, with all the ease that 
my lady crumples a rose leaf in her hand. 
It is a short and simple operation, but 
seemingly impossible things are done with- 
out effort in such a way as to startle the 

Or, perhaps it is the section of the boiler 
which connects the larger portion at the 
back with the one of smaller diameter in 
front. This is the gusset or "bias piece," 
which is punched and rolled and finally 
welded ; for this is the place where the 
boiler will show weakness, if anywhere, 
and it must be made especially strong. 

When an ordinary plate has been rolled 
into a hoop, the ends are riveted, not by 
hand, but by an ingenious machine which 
takes seconds where otherwise minutes 
would be required. Likewise the sections 
are riveted together — the rear one, con- 
taining the fire-box, being large enough 
for half a dozen men to play a game of 
cards in with ease. One of the most 
interesting sights in the shop is to see these 
sections bolted together. At the last the 
boiler section is about forty feet long, and 


standing on end looks much like an 
immense chimney. The riveting is done 
by what looks more like a gigantic pair 
of alligator's jaws than anything else. It 
seems as if in the bowels of the earth there 
was an immense saurian standing on his 
tail, with only his elongated jaws pro- 
jecting. Between these jaws the boiler is 
swung, and into every pair of holes con- 
necting the sections a red-hot rivet is 
placed. Then the jaws close and bite the 
end of the rivet with many tons power, 
and the work is instantaneously finished. 
Open the jaws go, another rivet slips in, 
the alligator winks, and there you are 
again ! In spite of the terrible noise going 
on in the vicinity, it is a fascinating sight 
which the visitor hates to leave. 

When the boiler is complete it is placed 
on the frame, the tubes are inserted, and 
a hundred men rush at it with varied 
intentions. Some interlace it with wires ; 
some put on steam domes, stacks, air 
pumps, indicators; while others cover the 
boiler with asbestos, and finally put on the 
sheet-steel jacket with which the public is 
familiar. At this stage of the game the 
machine is covered with men, and the 
sight resembles nothing so much as that of 
a Pliocene sow surrounded by a hundred 
sucking pigs. Finally comes the steam 
test, when the boilers are given a pressure 
never possible in ordinary operations. If 
there is the slightest defect now is the 
time it will be disclosed. As a matter of 
fact it seldom is. Long before this time 
tests have been made of every piece, and 
at the first sign of weakness the part, no 
matter how much it has cost, is sent to 
the scrap-heap, where any day may be seen 
the crushed bones of what might have been 
locomotives. The loss is great, but 
inevitable in dealing with metals. 

In the erecting shops the visitor comes 
upon perhaps fifty locomotives, of various 
sizes, in all stages of forwardness. Most 
of them seem mere wrecks to the ordinary 
beholder. In one corner there are seven 
apparently but little more advanced than 
the rest, and it appears impossible that in 
a few hours they will "walk ofi on their 


The Booklovers Magazine 

feet," complete in every detail except for 
the last touches, which are put on at the 
rouncl-house a mile away. 

It is in the erecting shop that one can 
watch the assembling process with some 
intelligent comprehension of what is going 
on. The materials fly like song birds to 
their meeting place, borne through the air 
by overhead electric cranes which are al- 
most unnoticed, so silently do they move. 
The sight of a full-fledged locomotive 
soaring away makes the senses swim, and 
reminds one of nothing so much as Sind- 
bad and the roc that carried him from 
the loadstone island. 

These are some hints of the general 
plan of operation, but they can give no 
adequate idea of the tremendous energies 
that are manifested, of the cumulative 
intelligence which is directing men and 
marvelous tools in all parts of the works, 
and of the dramatic scenes constantly en- 
acted in every stage of the operation; for, 
although tools do most of the work, there 
are times when only the skilfully directed 
power of the human arm can meet require- 
ments. In one shop a half-dozen men 
stand on top of a boiler swinging enor- 
mous sledges, with the grace of an Apollo 
and the rhythm of an orchestra. The 
leitmotiv of this grand opera, in which 
nearly eighteen thousand men produce the 
harmony of discord, might well be that 
of Siegfried's Sword. Could Kraus or 
Burgstaller add to their vocal gifts the dig- 
nity, grace, and dynamic intensity of one 
of the Baldwin mechanics in action, the 
sword-forging scene would be the most 
dramatic ever presented on the stage. 
Next after a lovely woman the most beau- 
tiful sight in the world is that of a well- 
built man exerting every muscle. At 
Baldwin's there are figures which Michael 
Angclo would have loved more than the 
classic Torso. Cumulatively they are an 
epic of the human ph\sique set to a mighty 
pean of industrial harmony. For, " whilst 
thisnuiddy vesture of decay doth grossly close 
it in," we still can see and hear and feel some 
echo of that " harmony in immortal souls" 
when set to the music of physical efifort. 

Or, take the sight in one of the alleys 
when a locomotive has been hauled a few 
hundred feet away for finishing touches ! 
Following after come two hundred sturdy 
men — begrimed indeed, clad to be sure in 
greasy jumpers — but there is a poetry in 
their motion, the unconscious grace and 
perceptible power which make a proces- 
sional more pleasing than a parade of gal- 
lant knights in gayest armor. As one sees 
that mass of humanity swing down the 
aisles, as he thinks of all the mighty ele- 
ments of intelligently directed energy he 
has seen, of the countless tons of material 
resistlessly moving to this last scene of 
activity, it begins to dawn upon him that 
these men are imprisoning in the locomo- 
tive the mighty potential forces which in 
its long career it will release at command. 
The sunlight of countless ages ago was 
congealed in the coal which, under new 
chemical combinations in the locomotive 
fire-box, will release the heat and convert 
the imprisoned raindrops in the boiler into 
steam. Touched by man these potential 
forces are recalled to life by a force equal 
to their own. 

One will, however, miss the lesson of 
this industrial community if he fails to 
grasp the wonderful system which per- 
vades the whole. Eighteen thousand men, 
which includes the force at Burnham, 
do not start daily with a mass of raw mate- 
rial and in twenty-four hours convert it 
into seven locomotives — in spite of the 
fanciful statement which begins this narra- 
tive. Although seven locomotives are born 
daily, as a rule three months or more elapse 
between taking an order and completion, 
so that ordinarily at Baldwin's there are 
five hundred locomotives in various stages, 
from the moment of conception in the 
drafting room to the final departure from 
the round-house. 

C^f the millions of pieces of material that 
are in the works at all times, each has its 
definitely assigned place in a locomotive. 
There is no confusion, no disorder, however 
apparent such may seem to the uninitiated 
visitor. Everyman is working with a elefi- 
nite purpose, along a prearranged schedule. 



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Each man's share is proportioned to the 
total energy required to produce a single 
locomotive, and timed accordingly. The 
various parts must be ready for the assem- 
bling room at the precise moment required 
— not before nor afterward. The exact 
proportion of all parts required is grinding 
its way through to meet a definite fixed 
date when the locomotive is to be deliv- 
ered. If all the parts that are to go into 
a single locomotive were painted red it 
would be an interesting process to watch 
their progress through the shops. Over 
eighteen acres of ground, and many more of 
floor space, there would be seen red spots 
of flotsam and jetsam, apparently drifting 
aimlessly in a maelstrom of machinery, 
gradually working their way by devioiis 
paths to a common centre. This would 
give an idea of how small a thing the 
largest locomotive is in such a gigantic 

Under pressure some remarkable records 
of rapid construction have been made at 
various times. On one occasion a loco- 
motive was made complete in every respect 
in eight days, though it is but fair 
to say it was a small one. On other occa- 
sions, given the completed parts, a loco- 
motive has been "assembled" in twenty- 
four hours; but it is more economical to 
take more time in the operation. 

There is a very good story told of a 
British master-mechanic who was sent 
over to buy some American locomotives 
because the home shop could not get them 
out in time. He was courteously received 
at Baldwin's, where locomotives had been 
built for nearly every railway in the world 
except those in England. The Briton 
was in haste. Time was to be an element 
of any contract ; the quicker the better 
and a big premium for haste. The part- 
ners reflected that there were some loco- 
motives under way, which the visitor had 
already seen and wished duplicated, and 
that the Americans who had ordered them 
would be willing to waive claims, seeing 
that others could be completed for them 
on time. The Briton became impatient 
for a definite statement as to the time 

when delivery aboard ship would com- 
mence. Finally one of the partners re- 
marked : "We are very anxious to oblige 
you in every way possible, and will hasten 
the work, but we cannot perform miracles. 
The best we can do is to begin deliveries 
one week from to-morrow." The Briton 
fell in a dead faint. 

The following equally good story the 
firm vouches for: When General Kit- 
chener was fighting his way southward, 
inch by inch, into the Soudan, his chief 
problem was that of transportation. To 
solve this he constructed the famous strate- 
gic railway. All the material was promptly 
available in Great Britain except the loco- 
motives and bridges. To construct these 
English builders wanted so much time that 
it would have disturbed his whole plan of 
campaign. Philadelphians built the Atbara 
bridge as if by magic, and to Philadelphia 
he sent for locomotives. The Baldwin's 
undertook to do the work in twelve weeks, 
a considerably less number than the months 
required by British bidders, and were offered 
a handsome bonus for any gain in time. 
The War Department cabled from London 
one fine morning that an inspector had sailed 
that day to watch the construction. The 
reply was sent that they were already com- 
pleted, thirty-seven days ahead of time. 
Ten days later the astonished inspector 
walked in to find his trip had caused an 
unnecessary delay in delivery. The firm 
used the bonus for anticipated delivery in 
sending one of its bright young men with 
the locomotives to superintend their erec- 
tion, and to watch carefully their initial 

Ten years after the Baldwin plant was es- 
tablished its foreign trade began with the 
construction of a locomotive for use m Aus- 
tria, and it grew rapidly until more than forty- 
six hundred have been sent abroad, which 
run on nearly every railway that has been 
constructed. In the last five years the 
domestic trade has engaged most of the 
energies of the works, in spite of increased 
capacity. Nevertheless, seventy were not 
long ago completed for British railways. The 
foreign business is still an important fea- 

r < 

> X 
Z I 

< U 




The Booklovers Magazine 


ture, and is expected to become more so 
when material declines in price. Its de- 
velopment has been of the first importance 
to the firm. When the domestic demand 
is slight, and wages and material are 
lower, it is easier to compete with foreign 
builders, though efficiency as well as first 
cost is a leading factor in getting outside 

The rapidity of growth of the business 
is shown by a few statistics. The one- 
thousandth locomotive was built in 1861, 
the five-thousandth in 1880, the ten- 
thousandth in 1889, the twenty-thousandth 
in 1902, and the total up to December i, 
1903, was in the neighborhood of twenty- 
four thousand, two hundred having been 
built in October alone. In 1897 only five 
hundred were built. The total for 1903 
is expected to reach two thousand, or as 
many as were built in the first thirty-eight 
years of the business. 

The shops are operated twenty-three 
hours a day by two shifts of men. The 
night gang works twelve hours for five 
nights only, the works closing down from 
6 P.M. Saturday to 7 A.M. Monday. As 
stated, there have been no labor troubles 
worth mentioning — none at all in nearly 
fifty years. 

A notable feature of the system is the 
indenturing of apprentices according to 
the ancient custom now so generally 
abandoned. These apprentices are divided 
into three classes, according to education 
and general intelligence. The first class 
includes boys of seventeen years with a 
good common school education, who agree 
to work four years, attend night school 
and study algebra, geometry, and mechani- 
cal drawing. They earn five cents an hour 
the first year, increasing to eleven cents 
for the fourth, and receive a bonus of 
$125 when their indentures are canceled 
and they are employed as journeymen 

Apprentices of the second class are 
chosen from those who have had an ad- 
vanced grammar or a high-school training. 
They serve three years, study at night- 
schools, and receive seven cents an hour 

the first year, rising to eleven cents the 
third, and get a bonus of $lOO. 

Apprentices of the third class are those 
over twenty-one who are graduates of 
colleges, technical schools, or scientific 
institutions. These are young men who 
expect to be superintendents, managers, 
or owners of great enterprises. They 
have received a thorough technical training, 
and want the practical knowledge to be 
gained only in doing things with their own 
hands. The firm agrees to teach these 
young men the business thoroughly, and 
only two years are required — frequently 
not so long. They receive higher wages 
than the other classes. It is largely 
from these apprentices that the foremen, 
superintendents, and possibly the owners 
will ultimately come. 

The apprentice system has been in 
operation only a few years, but the results 
so far are highly gratifying. Many of the 
young men make such rapid progress that 
their indentures are canceled and they 
are given good positions. From the ranks 
of the third class many go forth to under- 
take great enterprises, and frequently the 
firm is called upon to recommend some 
man of ability for a vacant position. 

Of the seven members of the firm four 
got their training in the business office, two 
were promoted from the drafting room, 
and one from the shops. These seven men 
are lineal and legitimate descendants of 
Tubal-Cain, James Watt, and George 

The Baldwin Locomotive Works is a 
rare example in this age of a great business 
conducted on the simple lines of the 
ancient copartnership. No trust-promoter 
ever approached the Baldwin works. 
These men have no bonds to float, no 
watered stock to sell. They build only 
locomotives, and, if into them they have 
succeeded in injecting certain moral quali- 
ties, it is not surprising that the demands 
upon them are constantly in excess of their 
ability to produce, and that they are proud 
of the splendor of their achievements. 

They are just completing a lot of the 
largest locomotives ever built in the world 


The Booklovers Magazine 

— for the Atchison, Topelca and Santa Fc 
Railroad — some to use oil and some coal for 
fuel. The illustration on this page shows 
one of the freight type, which is capable of 
hauling on a level a load of six thousand 
tons. This would mean a train of loaded 
cars more than a mile long. 

The locomotives built in a year, placed 
end to end, would alone make a train of 
almost twenty miles, while on a level 
track they could pull nearly fifteen hun- 
dred miles of cars. These figures not only 
give some idea of the magnitude of the 
works, but of the total commerce of the 
country. Every time that a stronger type 
of locomotive is placed in operation along 
the shining pathway of steel which leads 
to commercial supremacy, it means a sav- 
ing in expense to every man, woman, and 
child in the country. The price of nearly 
everything is now fixed by its transporta- 
tion cost. If the time ever comes in the 
distant future when there is a state of rea- 
sonable socialism among rational beings, it 
will be possible because the iron horse will 
be able to do the necessary work of dis- 
tributing over a wide area at a nominal 

The traveler, dreaming peacefully in his 
sleeper-berth, is waked for an instant. He 
hears the rhythmic pulsation of the engine 
pulling his train, filled with contented peo- 
ple, as with the speed of an arrow it flies 
through mountain and over dale; he hears 
the deep guttural belching of the freight 
locomotive on another track, bearing its 

rich burden of freight to its destination a 
thousand miles away. Another moment 
and he is peacefully asleep, unconscious of 
the fact that the conditions surrounding 
him are more miraculous than those of the 
wildest tale of oriental fancy. Aladdin 
and his lamp are choice figments of the 
imagination, but essentially crude in con- 
ception compared with the actual results 
of modern science. Daily and hourly there 
are rehearsed before us the miracles per- 
formed by scientific prestidigitators, unt.l 
there is no longer left to us the element 
of surprise. 

The epic of the locomotive is one grand 
song of achievement. Its conquests are 
invariably constructive. The products of 
some of the greatest factories in the world 
are designed solely to ravage and destroy. 
The function of the locomotive is to scat- 
ter plenty over a smiling land. Funda- 
mentally it is the most useful invention of 
man. It has reduced this country, rela- 
tively, to the size of Delaware in the days 
of the Constitutional Fathers ; it has turned 
the vast deserts of Canada into a granary; 
it is making the map of Africa "all red," 
in the language of Cecil Rhodes; in three 
decades it has awakened Japan from her 
millennial sloth ; and it is even now drag- 
ging the chariot of progress into the heart 
of reluctant China. 




Reflections of the Strenuous Life 


Winter has set in at last, and with a 
vengeance. Past my study windows 
screams the northeaster heavy with its 
freight of mingled snow and hail. All day 
the voice and fury of the storm has been 
growing wilder and more irresistible. My 
Saturday afternoon cross-country walk, 
with its quiet musings in solitary lanes and 
its rare gleamings of crimson oak leaves 
and scarlet berries, soon became a desperate 
and losing battle with the elements. Nip- 
ping night and the northern wind fell upon 
me and drove me flying before them like a 
homing ship to the snug harbor of my fire- 
side. Within my four walls I throw off a 
dripping coat, set the back-log roaring with 
a few well-placed sticks, and slip into my 
moccasins and oldest jacket. An easy 
chair before the blaze, plenty of tobacco 
within reach, and a table full of new books 
to explore — what more can the heart of 
man desire ? 

The volume that lies nearest to my 
hand bears a sea-green cover decorated 
with a picture of a sheering gull, and I 
open it to an illustration of a ship under 
storm sails battling against an angry sea. 
The very book for such a night as this. 
A passage of Lucretius that I learnt by 
heart in my senior year, and had forgotten 
long ago, floats upward to the surface of 
my memory: Suave, mari magno — how 
does it go ? 

'Tis sweet from land, when seas are raging wild, 
To see another strugglincr on the deep. 
Not that 'tis sweet his torment to behold. 
But sweet to look on ills, ourselves secure. 

So Lucretius, or rather his English trans- 
lator. Quite otherwise Mr. Basil Lubbock, 
ordinary seaman on the grain ship Royal- 

shire. "As for myself," he records, while 
running before a fierce westerly gale, pur- 
sued by Cape Horn greybeards a mile and 
half long, "as for myself I am in raptures 
with the magnificent sight and delight in 
the tremendous experience. I feel fit and 
braced up, ready to go anywhere and do 
anything; there is a kind of glorious exhil- 
aration about it all which fills me until I 
can hardly keep it down ; I smile and 
chuckle to myself, and watch the huge 
seas like a scientist over a new invention." 

There has been a run of sea-books in the 
last few years, one of the fashions that 
comes and goes in the world of print as in 
other worlds. It began, I fancy, with the 
startling success of Mr. Bullen's Cruise of 
the Cachalot in 1898. In Mr. Kipling's 
phrase, this book opened the door to a new 
world, and readers plunged eagerly through 
it to catch a glimpse of the "deep sea 
wonder and mystery" that lay beyond. In 
their train came the writers like hounds 
following up a new scent. The Cruise of 
the Cachalot proved the parent of a small 
library of voyages, sailor's logs, and sea- 
tales founded on fact. 

Few of these books, I think, have made 
any permanent impression ; even Mr. Bullen 
has never repeated his first success. After 
all, something more pertains to authorship 
than the mere ability to record in black 
and white experiences, however startling. 
Mr. Bullen, for example, had a very 
unusual set of experiences. He signed in 
true sailor fashion — I do not mean drunk, 
for he is, I believe, a total abstainer — 
articles agreeing to go he knew not where, 
in a ship whose very name he had never 
heard, for a time and at a rate of wages of 


The Booklovers Magazine 

which he was wholly ignorant. As a result 
he found himself on an old-fashioned 
whaler hound on a three-year's voyage 
around the world, commanded by an incar- 
nate devil of a driving captain, ably assisted 
by four hard-hitting mates of whom the 
last, a gigantic negro, boasted that no 
whaleman afloat could give him points on 

In the course of his voyage he visited 
such out of the way places as Tristan da 
Cunha, the Cocos, the Kuriles, and the 
Solander Rock. He was in at the death 
of countless whales — cachalots, bowheads, 
and humpbacks; and even rode out the 
flurry of one expiring monster to whose 
back he had lashed himself by the rope of 
the harpoon. He saw a mortal battle 
between a sperm whale and a cuttle-fish of 
almost equal size ; passed safely through 
the centre of a cyclone in the Indian 
Ocean, and crossed the track of a deserted 
Malay " prahu," drifting along the sea 
with a deck-load of rotting corpses. He 
was in the negro mate's boat when that 
giant fought and thrashed a dozen drunken 
mutineers with his bare hands, and from 
his lofty perch in the rigging saw the mate 
and the captain plunge overboard to their 
deaths locked in the inseparable embrace 
of mortal foes. 

We have Mr. Bullen's word for it 
that the matter of his book is entirely 
trustworthy, "being compiled from actual 
observation and experience, and in no case 
from second-hand." But the author was 
so little master of his art that he squandered 
in this first book, as Kipling told him, 
material enough to make five volumes. 
The book is interesting, very interesting 
even, but it is so by virtue of its matter 
alone. Mr. Hullen's later work has been 
hopelessly below the standard of his first 
book, because of the distinct falling of? in 
the interest of the material, unattended by 
any perceptible increase in the charm of 
style or skill of narration. 

Mr. Sonnichsen's Deep Sea Fagahoru/s 
reminds one distinctly of the Cruise of the 
Cachalot. Hut it is by no means so inter- 
esting a book. Mr. Sonnichsen's adven- 

tures were confined apparently to a couple 
of storms at sea, a collision on the Tyne, 
and several free fights afloat and ashore. 
The general tone of the book is by no 
means so pleasing as that of its predecessor. 
There is a total lack of Mr. Bullen's naive 
simplicity and unaffected piety. In their 
place we find too often a note of self-asser- 
tion, and an affected cynicism which 
would be offensive if it were not rather 
ridiculous. It is not too much to say, 
however, that Mr. Sonnichsen gives us 
in this book a striking picture of the 
shady side of seafaring and of the strange 
characters that abound among the men 
that follow the sea. On his first ship, for 
example, Mr. Sonnichsen's foc'sle mates 
included a Liverpool wharf-rat whose sea- 
chest was crammed with the works of 
Darwin, Ruskin, Emerson, and Browning; 
a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin, 
who had sunk to be an opium-smuggler 
and had served his time with the chain- 
gang on the roads of Honolulu ; and a 
cockney who had force perforce enlisted 
with the Cuban insurgents, fought for 
glory, excitement, and loot, and finally 
escaped by the skin of his teeth from a 
fight in which his band had been exterm- 
inated by the Spaniards. 

But perhaps the most instructive infor- 
mation which we get is that concerning the 
choice of evils which presents itself to a sailor 
hesitatingbetween avoyage under theUnion 
Jack or the Stars and Stripes. In an 
American ship he is likely at any time to have 
his skull cracked or his ribs smashed in ; on 
an English ship he is practically certain to 
be half-starved, and runs a fair chance of 
being poisoned with ill-kept, ill-cooked, or 
rotten food. We hear strange tales of a 
mate known as l^ully Hansen — now, praise 
Heaven, behind the bars of a California 
penitentiary — who cut a man's tongue out 
on the Reaper, hung a sailor by the thumbs 
till he died on the Mary Flint, and killed 
a man every trip on the Shenandoah. And 
these tales have not only the ear-marks of 
truth but are corroborated by independent 
testimony. Mr. Bullen's pages bear fre- 
quent witness to the revolting brutality of 

The Booklovers Magazine 


his officers, and Mr. Lubbock tells hideous 
stories of the exploits of Yankee mates 
with belaying pins. Small wonder that the 
reputation of American sailing ships is such 
that no one but a " real tough citizen or 
a long-sufifering Dutchman" will step on 
them. As is too often the case in our 
country, it is commercial greed that lies at 
the bottom of these crimes. "Bucko" 
mates are in high favor with ship-owners, 
since their brutalities usually drive the crews 
to desertion at the first port, and in this 
simple fashion the amount due for wages is 
transferred to the pockets of the owners. 

Per contra, the British laws that effectu- 
ally restrain the maltreatment of the sailor 
seem quite unable to secure him decent 
or sufficient food. The regulations of the 
Board of Trade prescribe a minimum ration 
— "the legal whack" of the sailors' dialect. 
But this ration is so diminished in process 
of preparation that a man thinks himself 
lucky to get half a dozen mouthfuls out of 
his allotted one and one-quarter pounds of 
salt beef. The salt pork which is served 
out is often so bad and so badly cooked as 
to be altogether uneatable, and when eaten 
it is a frequent cause of scurvy. As a pre- 
ventive of this horrible disease a weekly 
pint of lime juice is served out to all hands 
— a fact which has given the British sailing 
ship the nick-name of " lime juicer," under 
which she is known in all the ports of the 
world. But, as Mr. Sonnichsen's experi- 
ence shows, this weekly dose is often 
ineffectual, especially in the case of a ship 
making a long voyage with no opportunity 
to take on fresh meat or vegetables. Even 
when such opportunities occur the greed 
of the captain or the ignorance and care- 
lessness of the cook prevents full advantage 
being taken of them. 

Mr. Bullen has a couple of anecdotes 
which would be ridiculous if they were not 
pitiful, of crews rejecting fresh fowls which 
had been boiled to the consistency of 
shoe leather, or turtle cut up into a 
mess unfit to throw to a dog. Mr. Lub- 
bock's own experience is the more striking 
because it was not in the least abnormal. 
The Royalshire, bound from 'Frisco for 

Liverpool, made a fairly quick passage 
round the Horn, coming in about four 
months after sailing. Had she met with 
worse head winds, or been driven by a less 
daring captain, she might have been weeks 
longer at sea. Yet even as it was, both 
food and water had begun to run short 
before she sighted the shores of England. 
Breakfast, some five or six days before 
landing, consisted of half a pannikin of 
water tainted with rust, and two of the 
notorious Liverpool sea-biscuits popularly 
supposed to be made of paper pulp. The 
menu of the Christmas dinner was com- 
posed of the usual ration of "salt horse," 
supplemented by a small pie of breakjaw 
crust and moldy dried apples, which sent 
half the crew into agonies of stomach 
cramp. Mr. Lubbock himself, although 
coming on board fresh from the hardships 
of the Klondike and without an ounce of 
fat, was obliged to take in his belt six holes 
during the course of his voyage, and 
became so meagre a skeleton that, in his 
own words, only his muscles kept his ribs 
from breaking through his skin. Small 
wonder that a starving sailor on the 
Pitcairn stole the captain's sacred jam, 
and that an English gentleman like Mr. 
Lubbock stooped to lick clean the half- 
eaten bowls of porridge which he was 
ordered to carry from the cabin to the hen- 
coops. The wonder is only that there are 
not more hunger-strikes such as that 
which forced the captain of the Hindoostan, 
in Mr. Sonnichsen's story, to substitute 
cabin fare for the condemned army rations 
with which he was poisoning his crew. 

Mr. Lubbock's book. Round the Horn 
Before the A'last, from which I have been 
quoting, is by long odds a better piece of 
work than either Mr. Bullen's or Mr. 
Sonnichsen's. Yet this is by no means 
becaus'e the author is a trained writer. On 
the other hand, every page of the book 
betrays the hand of the unconscious genius 
who writes prose, as M. Jourdain talked 
it, without being in the least aware of the 
fact. Mr. Lubbock's grammar is artless 
and unconventional, and his vocabulary 
bristles with west-coast and deep-sea slang. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

But thouj^h a purist might object to much 
in Mr. Lubbock's diction, he would be 
forced at least to acquit him of the capital 
crime of fine writing, which mars so many 
pages in the books I have already discussed. 
His style, in short, is simply that of a 
wide-awake and responsive English school- 
boy writing home to a friend of the things 
he saw, the men he met, and the games 
he played in his wanderings up and down 
the face of the earth. But it has merits 
which would show him to be a schoolboy 
of a very unusual type — a graphic 
freshness, a vivid realism, and an artless 
accuracy of reporting. In the matter of 
conversation and dialogue, particularly, 
Mr. Lubbock is far superior to any of his 
competitors. He is, in fact, the very 
Boswell of the forecastle. 

Along with this there are other merits 
of an even superior order. The book is 
admirably proportioned. The incidents 
which enliven the narrative never become 
obtrusive episodes. It possesses the great 
merit of unity ; it has a beginning, a 
middle, and an end. As we read this 
story of a simple voyage round the Horn 
in stormy weather it begins to assume 
epic proportions. It is an epic, in fact — 
a nineteenth century prose epic ; and its 
theme is the battle of the strong, the sailor 
against the sea. 

Mr. Lubbock, an old Eton boy, came 
down to 'Frisco from the North with the 
purpose of shipping on a South Sea 
schooner and wandering through the 
Pacific islands to Australia. Not finding 
any boat to his liking, however, he sud- 
denly decided to sail for home as a fore- 
mast hand on a windjammer, apparently 
more for the joy of the experience than 
with any particular desire to see England 
again. He picked his ship carefully, 
selecting one whose lines pleased his 
yachtman's eye, whose skipper didn't 
drink, and whose reputation as a " hungry 
ship " was at least no worse than the 
general run of English boats. He signed 
articles, picked up an English chum, took 
him to the opera, and next day embarketl 
as a common sailor. 

Whoever shares the taste of Lucretius, 
and holds that it is sweet to behold from 
land the vast labor of those toiling in the 
deep, should open Round the Horn and 
read. It is not a book that he will lightly 
lay aside. 

Mr. Lubbock is not an " intellectual." 
He does not attempt to philosophize, like 
Mr. Sonnichsen ; nor does he moralise, 
like Mr. Bullen. He is a man of deeds 
rather than ideas. But he does not lack 
the capacity to express his feelings, and he 
relieves himself at times with good, round, 
mouth-filling oaths. But his outbursts are 
as short-lived as they are fiery. When a 
treacherous shipmate,whomhehad pounded 
for incompetency, cast loose a sail on the 
yard where they were standing, with the 
intention of catching him unawares and 
sending him crashing to his death below, 
Mr. Lubbock calmly furled the sail again, 
chased the rascal out of the rigging, and 
closed the incident. There isn't the least 
trace of either surprise or rancor in his 
account of the brief unpleasantness. The 
man's spirit is, in fact, indomitable. He 
is a true descendant of the old gentleman 
adventurer of Drake's day, an English 
sportsman of the nineteenth century. He 
takes all the manifold miseries of the 
stormy voyage as a part of the game. 
Trouble rolls of? him like water off a 
duck's back. He has a fine and fierce 
delight in the great struggle with the sea, 
and a keen appreciation of all the pleasures 
of a sailor's life — the quiet pipe in an idle 
hour, the games in the dog-watches, the 
chanties at the raising of the anchor or 
the bracing of the yards. His book is, in 
truth, a very treasure-house of those wild, 
queer, wailing songs, the only genuine 
folk-songs still alive and current among 
the Anglo-Saxon race. And of all the 
changing beauties of sky and sea he has 
a quick perception and a frank, animal 

Nor is he less quick to appreciate the 
virtues of the common sailor — the general 
bravery and patience under suffering ; the 
good humor that laughs at falls, blows, 
and drenchings; the simple generosity that 

The Booklovers Magazine 


shares tobacco, food, and clothing with 
less fortunate shipmates. Take it all in 
all, this is a book which goes very near to 
the central mystery of the everlasting fas- 
cination of the sea. It is to be hoped that 
Mr. Lubbock will give us as frank, uncon- 
ventional, and entertaining an account of 
his experiences in the Boer War. 

It is a long cry from Round the Horn to 
the Log of a Cowboy. Again, as in Mr. 
Bullen's book, we have a simple narrative 
of adventure without the epic note of 
combat that is so often heard in Round 
the Horn. The adventure, to be sure, is 
interesting in itself; the long five months' 
trailing of a herd of three thousand cattle 
from the mouth of the Rio Grande to an 
Indian reservation in the northwest corner 
of Montana is a good theme. And it is a 
theme of strong appeal to those who turn 
gladly to catch some glimpse of a vanished 
past. For now the Old Western Trail is 
closed and the innumerable herds have 
ceased to wander from the waters of the 
Gulf through the vast prairies to the 
foothills of the northern mountains. But 
in the Lo^ of a Cowboy we have only the 
raw material out of which, perhaps, some 
writer of the future may frame a lasting 
record, a prose epic of the cowboy and the 
herd, the "rustler," the Indian, and the 
ranger. We miss, too, the gay, brave 
spirit of the true sportsman in his contest 
with elemental foes which runs like a 
scarlet thread through Mr. Lubbock's 
book. In its place we find, too often, a 
note of swagger and half-defiant bravado 
which may, perhaps, distinguish a certain 
type of cowboy, but which, we may well 
believe, is not characteristic of the class. 

Yet, none the less, the book is interest- 
ing. The life itself attracts us: the long 
day in the saddle under the blinding sun 
or the ceaseless downpour of a Western 
rain ; the camp-fire in the evening, with 
the songs and stories and the good-natured 
chaf?, " pointed as a bayonet and delicate as 
a gun-butt"; and then the night watches 
with the sleeping herd and the tireless 
watchers riding round and round them, 
crooning foolish ends of song. Or the 

quiet may be broken suddenly by the roar 
and thunder of the stampede. Three 
thousand cattle are up and away to the 
four winds of heaven. The guards are 
at their heads spurring hard to avoid 
the deadly rush, firing their pistols to 
summon help, and using all the tricks of 
the craft to check or turn the crazy brutes 
back upon the trail. At times we see the 
grim determination of man matched in 
vain against the blind powers of nature, as 
when the desperate cattle are pushed for- 
ward across a dry and dusty land where 
no water is, until, on the fourth day of 
misery, fever and thirst overcome even 
their fear of their masters, and they break 
through the cordon of riders, reckless of 
shouts and blows and pistol shots, to seek 
the water that they had left fifty miles 
behind them. Usually, however, the 
energy of the drivers prevails over the ele- 
ments, and the cattle are rescued from the 
quicksands of the South Canadian or are 
guided over the shaky new-built bridge of 
Slaughter's Ford, with a will and a skill 
worthy of all admiration. 

Glimpses of human life along the trail we 
also catch : Indians, a tame and broken- 
spirited remnant of the savage tribes of the 
Southwest, easily bribed with a few head 
of cattle to keep the peace and point out 
short cuts in the trail; cattle thieves 
who, under the specious pretense of 
recovering stray cows, descend upon the 
herd and levy tribute ; and Texas rangers, 
the guardian angels of the trail, whose 
opportune appearance prevents a scene 
of battle, murder, and sudden death 
with these same rustlers." We pay a 
brief visit to the cow towns — Dodge, 
Ogalala, and Frenchman's Ford — where 
the cowboys dance and drink and gamble 
through the night, riding out of town in 
the grey dawn to a running-fire accom- 
paniment of pistol and rifle shots. Here, 
as elsewhere, tragedy and comedy are not 
far apart. The story of the guileless grey- 
beard, who chummed in with the cowboys 
and stripped them of all their spare cash, 
watches, and six-shooters by running in a 
"ringer" in an impromptu horse race- 


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stands in close juxtaposition to the shoot- 
'\ng of the picturesque gambler at French- 
man's Ford and the drowning of the 
foreman who disregarded his presentiment 
and plunged into the flooded Platte 
at Forty Islands. After all, if the Lo^ of 
a Cowboy is not literature of a high order, 
it is a bit of life, hard and rough, but 
thoroughly human. 

And this raises the everlasting question 
first propounded, according to Mr. Kipling, 
by the Devil himself: "It's human; but 
is it Art?" To define the ends and the 
limitations of art is a task that may, per- 
haps, be accomplished when earth's last 
picture is painted. It certainly will not 
be attempted here. But, to take a con- 
crete case, even Mr. Kipling, I fancy, 
would admit that the Ballad of the 
'Bolivar was art — of a kind, and that Mr. 
Sonnichsen's account of the 'Balkan's pas- 
sage of the Bay of Biscay was something 
else. Mr. Wister's Virginian may be an 
idealized portrait, but it is a portrait of a 
man, whereas Mr. Adams' cowboys — Jim 
Flood, Quince Forest, and the rest — are 
pale simulacra. Is it too dogmatic, after 
all, to assert that a work of art must be 
something more than a mere transcript of 
life? that it must have a touch, at least, 
of that interpretative spirit which looks 
through the event to its hidden signifi- 
cance and brings this to light, so that 
even we of duller eyes may see it ? 

This spirit of divination is, it seems to 
me, the great and cardinal merit of the 
work of Mr Conrad — a fine, but in this 
country at least, by no means appreciated 
artist. Mr. Conrad is a teller of tales of 
strange lands and distant seas. His sub- 
jects are, as a rule, simple and popular 
enough ; but his style repels the general 
public. It is broken, hurried, impression- 
istic, leaving much to the imagination. 
He is a master of ideas, and events are 
to him merely the raw material which he 
shapes, arranges, and displays to set forth 
an idea. This has come home to me with 
especial force lately in reading, not for the 
first or second time, his story. Youth — at 
once the simplest and the finest tale, I 

think, that he has ever given us. The 
events of young Marlow's voyage in the 
luckless Judea are by no means so surpris- 
ing as those in the Cruise of the Cachalot, 
but this little story of fifty pages is alive 
with that sense of light-hearted enterprise 
and indomitable energy which is altogether 
lacking in Mr. Bullen's work. "I remem- 
ber," Mr. Conrad makes his hero say, 
"my youth and the feeling that will never 
come back any more — the feeling that I 
could last forever, outlast the sea, the 
earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling 
that lures us on to joys, to perils, to love, 
to vain efifort — to death ; the triumphant 
conviction of strength, the heat of life in 
the handful of dust, the glow in the heart 
that with every year grows dim." It 
would be a pleasant task for the young 
story-writer to analyze a book of Mr. 
Conrad's, or to compare such a piece of 
work as his Typhoon with a chapter of 
'T(ound the Horn, and it would furnish 
him a capital lesson in the methods of 
artistic workmanship. 

Outside my door the violence of the 
storm has fallen, and the calm stars are 
shining down on the long stretch of cold, 
white fields. It is a desolation, but it is 
peace. Across the halls there floats to me 
from the music room the rich, full harmony 
of a Schubert chord. A voice rises strong, 
pure, and sweet, and I catch the first 
words of the loveliest of all the songs of 
rest, " Ueber alle Gipfel." I have had 
enough of the strenuous life, even in its 
faint reflection in books, and am weary of 
the crash of waves on the decks, the 
thunder of the thousand hooves, the oaths 
and cries of struggling men. This is the 
night — I had almost forgotten — that the 
Schubert Quartette meets in my rooms. 
I will join them, and in a magic bath of 
music will wash my mind free from all the 
harsher sights and sounils that haunt it. 
Tonight, at least, the Reil Gods do not 
call me. 







7pi-7-r/»i»V. OJ 

THE weeping old woman fell on her knees before the Cardinal 
and received his blessing. Then, being assisted to her feet by 
a young priest, she suffered herself to be led away — still 
weeping. The scene had been a painful one, and the Cardinal 
passed his hand over his eyes. 

He was himself an old man, of medium height, with the 
slender, erect figure of his youth. His features were regular and 
even beautiful; his eyes gentle and humorous and of a clear hazel. 
A whimsical smile usually lingered about his sensitive lips; a smile 
that invited confidence and won affection. His red cassock was 
almost shabby, for he cared nothing for his appearance. It was one 
of many traits which tormented and scandalized his valet, a 
worldly-minded person by the name of Pierrot. 

Having dismissed his aged and distressed visitor, the Cardinal 
sat down to eat his midday meal. The table — a small one of rich 
old mahogany — was spread near a long window that opened on the 
piazza. A trellis, covered with vines, screened that corner and 
framed the window at which his Eminence sat eating his roll and 
his chicken wing and sipping his chocolate. Below was a small 
garden plot sheltered by high walls; in the very heart of gay, noisy 
Paris it was as quiet as a corner of Eden. 

The Cardinal ate sparingly of a meal that could have been set 
only before an ascetic. Pierrot had just brought him a golden-ripe 


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pomegranate and a slender glass filled with amber-colored wine, 
when he was again interrupted by a servant bringing him the card 
of a persistent caller. The Cardinal put on his eyeglasses and read 
it thoughtfully; it was an unfamiliar name — " Miss Lois Norton" 
— and he could not divine her errand, neither was it his hour for 
receiving strangers. 

The young lady will not take ' no,' your Eminence," said the 
attendant respectfully. 

" Is she alone ? " asked his Eminence, laying the card beside him. 

" Yes, monseigneur, and she has been here twice already 

"I will see her," said the Cardinal, with his whimsical smile; 
' she is an American. She undoubtedly wishes to sell me for 
something like fifty francs per column. I think I am worth that 
much — according to my last visitor from the United States. It is 
well to know your monetary value, Pierrot ; I gathered that she 
thought me rather cheap at that — especially with autographed 
photographs of me and of M. Vivite, the chaufJeur; she did us 
both for the same newspaper." 

Your Eminence is altogether too kind to them," replied the 
confidential servant severely ; " and you have not finished your 
meal — this has been so for a week." 

Precisely, Pierrot," retorted the Cardinal, smiling again; it 
is a form of abstinence that is forced upon me." 

"If your Eminence will permit these " 

His Eminence held up a white hand. A young girl had just 
entered the room and now approached the Cardinal's corner by the 
window. There was a peculiarly neat and fresh effect to her whole 
trim figure, in its pale gray suit, with a white veil draped on the 
wide brim of the violet-colored straw hat that shaded a charming 
face. The Cardinal — who was fastidious — thought her a most 
beautiful type of spring, a personification of sweetness and freshness 
and blossoming time. He dismissed his servant and graciously 
invited her to step out on to the piazza and take the wicker chair 
opposite his own at the window. When she sat down, and the 
light shone full on her face, he saw that she had been weeping and 
was still deeply agitated. Involuntarily, he thought of his other 
visitor — worn and old and weeping too, the scant, hard wrung tears 
of age — with the heartbreak for her son who 

The Cardinal looked at his young visitor with a genial smile 
and waited to be addressed. 

She clasped her gloved hands tightly together and straightened 
herself in her chair, controlling an almost overmastering emotion. 

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" Monseigneur," she saitf abruptly, "I am an American." 

"I know it," he replied, the smile deepening about his thin 
lips, his eyes softening. 

She looked at him in surprise, knowing that her French was 
faultless, but she passed it over; everything was really trivial except 
the trouble that hung upon her heart like a millstone. 

" I have come to you," she hesitated and looked down, trying 
to shape her sentences; "because — because I am in distress of 
mind " 

" Many people come to me for that reason, my child," 
remarked the Cardinal gently ; his manner invited confidences. 

"Yes," she said, with an effort, "I know it, but — but they 
come for religious consolation — and I do not. I — I am a heretic." 

The Cardinal's smile grew more whimsical; he elevated his 

" So," he said, " even so ; they also come tome — for conversion." 

But she did not smile ; she only looked at him with a pained 

"1 do not come for that either," she replied, and turned her 
face away, tracing a pattern on the floor with the point of her 
parasol. "Yet, I do come to you for — for advice." 

"Ah!" murmured his Eminence pleasantly, putting the tips of 
his long, tapering fingers together and looking at them atten':ively. 

She stopped tracing her pattern. Her face was so pale that 
her white veil seemed no whiter than her cheek. 

"You are the Archbishop of Paris," she said abruptly, "there- 
fore no one will doubt your word " 

" My dear child ! " interrupted the Cardinal Archbishop softly, 
"my dear child, when men can even doubt the blessed verities of 
the Christian religion they are quite as likely to doubt the word of 
a humble follower of Christ," 

"They would surely take your word, though," she went on, 
unheeding, "in evidence — in evidence to save a man's life." 

The Cardinal's whimsical smile faded away; he looked at her 

" My evidence would undoubtedly be as good asanother man's 
before the law," he said quietly, "if I gave it." 

She did not quite know how to address him, and she dropped 
all thought of this formality as she began to reach her subject. 

"I have read the papers day by day," she said earnestly, "for 
six weeks — all through the great trial" — his Eminence started — 
"and I know of your interest in Claude de Brissac. You believe 
he is innocent." 




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The Cardinal gravely inclined his head. 

" But no one else does, mademoiselle," he said, " except his 
mother and his fiancee." 

She looked up quickly. 

"Is it quite true that she is dying ? " she asked in an awed tone. 

" No, she is not dying," he replied; "the young are often slow 
to die, however much they may desire it, but she has — what we call 
familiarly — the broken heart. Since they have sentenced M. de 
Brissac to be executed — it is already two days — Mile, de Lausun has 
eaten nothing. She lies in her little white bed, with the crucifix 
in her hands, and she speaks only when she prays aloud for his 

The American girl looked away; her eyes were brimming with 
tears and her lips trembled. 

" This is also a very emotional creature," thought the Cardinal, 
"the American people live too fast; their nerves " 

But he did not give voice to his thoughts, and there was a 

"I have followed the whole case," said she, earnestly, her 
tearful eyes turning on him almost with reproach. " I am sure 
that M. de Brissac is innocent; you are sure of it — why can he not 
be saved ? " 

He smiled sadly. 

"My dear child," he said, "do you not remember that the 
people cried, 'Give us Barabbas ' ? It is so still. M. de Lausun 
was the most popular man in the French cabinet, he was the friend 
of the president; as Minister of the Interior he has done much to 
ameliorate the condition of the country people. He loved reform, 
but he hated reformers, he detested socialists, he persecuted anarch- 
ists. I have no doubt that an anarchist shot him, particularly since 
the paper, with the list of those in Paris, was the only thing taken 
from his person. But, mademoiselle, there was absolutely no one 
near him when he was shot in the garden but M. de Brissac. M. 
de Brissac was taken running toward the gate. You know — all the 
world knows — that his defence is that he had just left the house 
and, hearing the shots, ran back into the garden, discovered the 
murdered minister, and was running for help when the gens d'arme 
seized him. Mile, de Lausun believes this, and affirms that he had 
only just left her. Unhappily, however, a sufl'icient time elapsed 
between his parting from her and tlie assassination for him to have 
reached that fatal spot by the fountain. But the point — the serious 
point — is that M. de Lausun was bitterly opposed to his niece's 
engagement; he did not approve of Claude de Brissac. the young 


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man is not of steady habits. They had quarreled openly that very 
morning, and the minister had forbidden M. de Brissac the house. 
The motive, therefore, mademoiselle, — the motive vv^hich counts 
so much in crime — the motive exists." 

" But, monseigneur, you believe he is innocent," she asked 
earnestly, "and I — I know it — therefore, we must save him!" 

The Cardinal leaned back in his chair and smiled. 

"Mademoiselle," he said genially, "you and I together should 
make the sun stand still on Gibeon." 

"I do not understand the processes of French law," she 
declared, deeply agitated; "and since the Dreyfus case we Amer- 
icans — but you — could make an affidavit, could you not, declaring 
his innocence? — if it were established, if I could cast a light upon 
it, could tell you something that no one else knows?" 

The Cardinal gazed at her meditatively. He had dim recollec- 
tions of certain newspaper descriptions of beautiful and emotional 
Americans who sent bouquets to prisoners. His visitor's appearance 
was eminently sane and well ordered, but he was not unprepared. 
He began to cut up the pomegranate that had remained untouched 
at his elbow. 

It would be necessary for me to know what you have to 
tell," he remarked gently, picking out the scarlet seeds with the 
tip of his knife and counting them. 

Again she clasped her hands tightly together and looked at him. 

"I am a heretic," she said. 

"So you have tqld me," remarked the Cardinal dryly, still 
counting the seeds. 


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"But you would respect my confidence?" she demanded; 
"you would keep it — as if under the seal of the confessional?" 

" My dear child," he said pleasantly, ''if you are about to tell 
me something that afifects a man condemned to die, ought I to bind 
myself? I lay it upon your conscience? " 

"I have no conscience !" she declared with startling conviction. 

The Cardinal looked up and met her candid blue eyes — they 
were extremely beautiful eyes — and a twinkle came into his own. 
But he answered her with judicious mildness. 

" It is possible that your conscience is overladen," he said softly, 
arranging the pomegranate seeds in a row. 

"I do not know," she replied, in a low voice, "but I am a 
New Englander, and it has always been said that we New Engend- 
ers have consciences. But I have none." She gazed at him with 
a piteous expression, her lips quivering. " For six months I have 
known what I ought to do, but I can't do it — I can't, can't do it ! 
My love is stronger than my conscience. I never thought I should 
be like this — never! But I cannot — cannot do what is right — 
because it will hurt some one I love — do you not see?" she cried, 
stretching out her hands toward him with an appealing gesture. 

"It is a common experience," remarked the Cardinal quietly; 
"it is also one of the snares of the Evil One." 

" I know it," she affirmed, " I know it ! Yet I am so wicked 
that it is not my sense of justice that is touched, it is not my love of 
right and truth and honor — it is my pity for another woman. 1 
can't get Mile, de Lausun out of my head ; I feel as she feels, every 
hour, every day " 

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her face quivering. 

"Ah," he said softly, "it is only your heart that is touched 
then, mademoiselle, not your reason. But that is like your sex ; 
women are never logical, they are purely emotional. VV'hy do you 
think only of Mile, de Lausun ? She is young, she is charming, 
she is also strong; she may recover from this great loss. It is to the 
old that grief is crushing. Mademoiselle, M. de Brissac's mother is 
eighty years old ; he is the son of her heart, her youngest, and also 
the only one who survives of a large family. You asked me if Mile, 
de Lausun would die. I am quite sure that Mme. de Brissac will." 

"His mother," murmured the girl, looking away, "that is 
hard. Monseigneur, who was that old and stricken woman whom 

I met at your door ? Her face haunts me ; was it — could it be? " 

' It was Mme. de Brissac." 

The girl burst into tears. 

" You are in deep distress, my child," he said, "but you have 

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no comprehension of the misery, the hopelessness of the very old. 
Youth will always hope; age remembers." 

"Will you promise to keep my confidence?" she cried, "will 
you regard it as a confession ? " 

The Cardinal looked at her mildly. 

My dear child," he said softly, " my dear child ! " 

She flushed crimson. "I know!" she sobbed, " I know — I 
do not doubt you — but " 

She straightened herself and wiped the tears from her face. 
She was a charming penitent. 

" Your Eminence," she said, " my aunt and I are staying at a 
pension on the rue de Penthievre. She is ill and does not know 
where I am " 

The Cardinal nodded gently; his smile deepened a little, a dear 
old smile — soft and genial and caressing. 

" Do you remember that the back of the house — No. 25 — 
overlooks the garden of M. de Lausun's hotel on the rue de St. 
Honore ? " she went on, not heeding his start of surprise and 
interest ; " it is the only house that does look down in that corner 
by the fountain — where — where — " she broke ofif and covered her 
face with her hands. 

"Where M. de Lausun was assassinated," supplemented the 
Cardinal quietly; " yes, mademoiselle, but I was under the impres- 
sion that he had closed all those windows. The house — I know it 
well — belonged to him, and he closed the windows on his garden." 

"All but one, monseigneur," she said tremulously, "one little 
one — and that is mine." 

A sudden comprehension dawned in his hazel eyes and he 
looked at her attentively. 

" I was alone in my room that day," she said, " the twenty- 
third of October last — and " 

She looked up; her face was haggard with long concealed agony. 

" I saw the assassination," she declared. 

"Ah!" ejaculated the Cardinal, and pushed aside the little 

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. He rose and 
kindly pressed his untouched glass of wine upon her, but she put it 

"And the assassin ?" he asked gently. 

She drew av/ay from him, searching his face with frightened 
eyes, her whole air one of resistance, of defiance. 

"I will never tell you," she cried, " never! But — on my life, 
by all I hold most sacred — it is not M. de Brissac ! " 


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"Ah!" said the Cardinal, and sat down. 

" This thing has been on my conscience for months," she 
moaned. " But what could I do ? They would not listen to me 
unless I told them who it was." 

"Assuredly, mademoiselle," he replied, "they would not listen 
without that. And do you not desire to tell ? To save an innocent 

She looked at him defiantly, agony in every feature. 

"Never!" she declared, "never! Wild horses could not drag 
it from me." 

" In spite of the Dreyfus case, mademoiselle, we do not use 
wild horses," he remarked dryly, " But this is a matter that might 
well weigh upon your conscience. Have you a right, by your 
silence, to slay an innocent man to save a guilty one ? Is it not 
also time to think of a higher tribunal ?" 

" I do, I do ! " she cried ; " but what I have suffered — what I 
suffer — must expiate! Monsiegneur, I declare to you that M. de 
Brissac is innocent. I beg of you to save him by that declaration ; 
but never — never will I reveal the name of the assassin ! " 

" My dear child," said the Cardinal mildly, " are you prepared 
to answer at that last day for the lives of M. de Brissac and his 
aged mother, for the broken heart of Mile, de Lausun?" 

She wrung her hands together. 
Do not press it upon me ! " she said wildly. " I cannot do 
it — I cannot betray him! I would rather die! Why can't you save 
the accused by this statement?" 

" Mademoiselle, such a statement, unsupported by evidence; 
would not save him. Simply, I should be considered a madman or 
an imbecile. It is for you to save him ; this responsibility has been 
laid upon your soul." 

She did not reply ; she sat motionless with her hands tightly 
clasped in her lap, 

"Is it possible that you can love a man who could commit 
such a crime? M. de Lausun was a good man. Unless his 
assassin is an anarchist I can conceive no motive. What motive 
could there have been, mademoiselle, in the mind of a man worthy 
to appeal to your heart ?" 

" There could be no motive," she cried tearfully. " I am sure 
that — that he is insane." 

"In that case," said her monitor hopefully, "you do not 
deliver him to the death penalty. Is it not this — this shedding of 
blood, so repugnant to a woman — is it not this that holds you 

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"Not death?" she said. "Dear heaven ! Would you have 
me commit him to some frightful Dreyfusian punishment ? or to 
one of your terrible madhouses? Never, never!" 

Mademoiselle, you contemplate then a great crime," he 
replied. "You are a participator in the murder of M. de Lausun, 
and you — you yourself — murder M. de Brissac, his mother, and 
perhaps this young girl of your own age. Yet I think you have a 
conscience, and high purpose, and honor. I am not without my 
knowledge of my fellow-creatures. Is it worth it, my child ? Is 
love — so guilty, so stained — worth this great price?" 

She dropped her face on her hands, sobbing. 

" My daughter," continued the Cardinal, "go home; and in 
your closet think over this great question, which will be asked you 
at that last day. Your conscience should awake ; it is only your 
heart that is speaking now. Return to me to-morrow and tell me 
the truth — and the whole truth. In one week M. de Brissac dies. 
I lay this then upon your conscience." 

She rose from her seat and stood looking at the garden, dazed 
with her sorrow. The Cardinal rose also. 

"You will return tomorrow," he said mildly. "This is on 
your conscience, and your conscience will awake and torment you. 
The blood of this innocent man would be upon your skirts." 

"I will save him," she declared; "but I will not — I cannot 
betray " 

The Cardinal took her hand. They walked together to the 
door upon the street. He opened it. 

" You will think, you will repent, and you will come back to 
save this poor young man," he said, in his fine voice. " It is not 
meet that the innocent should suffer for the guilty." 

She drew her hand away and looked at him with wide open, 
frightened eyes. 

" No, no ! " she murmured, " I shall not come back — I do not 
dare to come back. You would make me do things — against my 
will " — she drew a long breath — " I — I feel it ! " 

He smiled delightfully. It was the most sincere compliment 
that he had ever received. 

My dear child," he said genially, " you will come back." 

But she put her hands over her ears and ran down the steps, 
like one who fled from the tempter. 

The Cardinal looked thoughtfully after her until her slender 
figure disappeared at the corner. Then he closed the door, nodding 
his head. 

She will do one of two things," he said to himself. " She 


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will either bring matters to a desperate climax and plunge herself 
into trouble, or she will come baclc." 


The locket lay close beside the chair that she had occupied on 
the piazza, and the Cardinal's first impulse was to send it to her by 
Pierrot. Then he fell to examining it, his fine old face full of a 
youthful curiosity. It was of dull gold and the shape of a heart. 
On one side was a motto, badly defaced by time ; on the other he 
managed to trace the outlines of a crown, the pearls and strawberry 
leaves of a marquis, and below was a monogram. It was hard to 
decipher the devices, for the heart of gold was small and worn and 
old. The temptation was upon his Eminence to open it ; it was 
fine to see how he resisted it. It might indeed hold the key of the 
secret, but even so 

Nay, she would come back. 

The little time-worn heart of gold — the Cardinal turned it 
over and over in his hand. It seemed almost warm and fragrant 
from its contact with its fair owner; it was the very locket to 
guard a girl's secret. 

The touch of a spring, your Eminence ! 

The thin old lips curved into their most genial smile ; the 
Cardinal put the trinket in his pocket. 

"Resist the devil," he remarked to the scarlet pomegranate 
seeds, " and he will flee from you." 


It was the custom of the Cardinal Archbishop to celebrate mass 
every morning at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, to return to his 
cup of black coffee and his piece of dry toast, to dispatch diocesan 
business, to receive the petitions of the poor — which meant, in a 
word, all the beggars of Paris, to Pierrot's disgust — and to give them 
more than he was able to spare. It was not until afternoon, there- 
fore, that the world reached his Eminence in the ordinary course of 
events. But on Friday morning — it was on Thursday that Lois 
Norton had poured out her heart to him — on Friday he had scarcely 
given away the capon that was to have been for his own dinner, 
anil the poor in many pluralities still choked his doors, when he 
received an urgent request for an interview — from an American ! 

This time, however, it was not a beautiful girl ; it was instead 
a young man, tall and well made, and dressed in accurate good 
taste, hat and stick in hand. When he came into the strong light 
from the window in front of his host ami made his bow — a bit stif? 


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and formal— the Cardinal's face changed; 
it might even be said that he started. 
His visitor was fine looking, with clean 
cut features and honest eyes. It was 
not, however, exactly an American face, 
though it belonged to a type we often 
see in Ainerica when two nationalities 
are united. 

"I have the honor to meet Mr. 
Ricliard Harrington ?" said the Cardinal. 

" To be sure, your Eminence," he 
replied, in easy French ; the Cardinal 
would have been surprised at its perfec- 
tion but for a circumstance that made 
him expect it. "And I must apologize 
for my urgent intrusion ; my business 
permits of no delay. I must beg your 
indulgence for half an hour." 

"For a longer time, monsieur, in a good cause," replied 
the Cardinal, as genial as a May morning; and his hand slip- 
ping involuntarily into his pocket, he began to finger the heart 
of gold. 

" I come to you in great perplexity," began Richard Barrington 
with some hesitation. 

"Indeed ? " said the Cardinal mildly. 

" The American Ambassador has gone to Carlsbad, I wired him 
this morning, and the Charge is in bed with appendicitis — simply 
everybody has appendicitis — " continued the young man, with 
impatience, " but something must be done at once for Miss 

The Cardinal elevated his brows, his kindly old face became an 
interrogation point. 

" I know she was here yesterday," said Barrington bluntly, " I 
followed her almost to the door." 

His auditor's expression changed to one of profound and 
amazed amusement. 

"Of course I felt like a cad," went on his visitor, blushing 
furiously, " but what could I do ? " 

Possibly you need not have followed her," suggested the 
Cardinal suavely. 

" Possibly not, monseigneur," replied his visitor frankly, "but 
you would have done so — in a like case " 

Whereupon his Eminence smiled involuntarily. 



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" The case being that monsieur is mademoiselle's fiance," he 

The young man stared and blushed yet more violently. 
" I hope so," he said devoutly, " I was — but now ! " 
Once more the Cardinal put the tips of his fingers together and 
apparently gave them his undivided attention. 
"But now?" he suggested mildly. 

"It will be impossible for you to understand unless I make a 
clean breast of it ! " cried the American excitedly; " monseigneur, 

I — I am about to make a confession " 

His Eminence lifted his eyes deliberately to the face opposite; 
it was a distinctly handsome face and it was also honest. 

"I am engaged to be married to Miss Lois Norton," he said, 
" and she was — was all that I could desire up to a few days before my 
departure to America, six months ago. She scarcely wrote me 
a line while I was away; and now — on my return — she is 
distant, reproachful, even unkind. I fear her mind is over- 
wrought; she has thought of nothing, spoken of nothing but the 
trial of M. de Brissac. Ordinarily, she is far too sensible a girl to 
dwell morbidly on such matters; she is not a sentimentalist ! Yet, 
she came to you yesterday, I know, on some strange errand, and I 
followed her — without her knowledge — in order to protect her from 
any chance rudeness on the street, and today — " he rose excitedly 
from his chair — "monseigneur, she went to a commissaire de 
police on the rue d'Anjou this morning and she has been detained ! " 
The Cardinal started ; he was plainly disconcerted. 
" There is some horrible mistake," continued Richard Barring- 
ton, "she is as innocent, as lovely, as high-minded — as — as an 
angel ! " he fell into imbecilities in his desperation ; " monseigneur, 
you must help me get her away at once. It is an absolute crime 
for the authorities to detain this young girl ! " 
The Cardinal held up a deprecating hand. 

"Sit down, monsieur," he said soothingly, "sit down once 
more and let us look this matter in the face." 
His visitor obeyed with evident reluctance. 

" There is no time to be lost ! " he protested, " heaven knows 
why they have dared to lay hands on her — it is sacrilege ! " 

Monsieur," said his Eminence calmly, " are you aware that 
Mile. Norton witnessed the assassination of M. de Lausun ? " 

Impossible ! " cried her fiance, in evident amazement, " mon- 
seigneur, it is impossible — she would have told me ! " 

Did she not tell you?" asked the Cardinal, looking at him 


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" Good heavens, no ! " he exclaimed excitedly, " it is the con- 
firmation of m\' worst fears — her mind has given away, she imagines 

" Be at ease on that point, monsieur," said the Cardinal, "she 
is as sane as I am." 

The young man looked deeply chagrined. 

" Why, then, did she deny me her confidence and give it to a 
stranger ? " 

" Of that I am not prepared to speak," replied the Cardinal, 
" but such being the case, I have myself no doubt of her errand to 
the commissaire. I wish she had come to me ; but — " he shrugged 
his shoulders, "monsieur, I will do what I can. Let me say first, 
however, that you yourself can do nothing. Will you permit me to 
act for you — and for her ? " 

" I have no choice, your Eminence. It is impossible to imagine 
anything more rash than her conduct, but in the United States " 

The Cardinal smiled. "I know," he said suavely, "also it 
was her conscience. She has been torn with contending emotions ; 
she has felt herself to blame. She has undoubtedly gone to save 
M. de Brissac " 

"Oh heavens!" groaned the American, "and these French 
police — they will hold her as an accessory after the fact ! " 

An irresistible twinkle came into his Eminence's eyes. He 
held out the little heart-shaped locket. 

" Monsieur," he said blandly, ' do you recognize this as 
mademoiselle's property ? " 

A light kindled in the young man's forlorn face. 

" It is a gift of mine," he said, " I hardly dared hope that she 
wore it! " then his expression changed and he glanced keenly at 
the Cardinal ; " how came it here, monseigneur ? " 

"I found it where she had been sitting," replied the old man 
naively. "It is yours? Your mother was then Mile. Hortense de 

Barrington started. "Tobesure," he replied,." but how do you 
know that, monseigneur?" 

The Cardinal smiled a little. " I am an old, old man," he 
remarked, "I remember many things; also, I know the crest of 

" You knew my mother ? " Then, as his Eminence bowed 
his assent, " I am glad to know you, monseigneur, and I would 
know more of you; ask many questions, but meantime there is 
Miss Norton " 

The Cardinal rose and held out his thin white hand. 



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Monsieur, I go 
to see her," he said 
evenly, " and after- 
wards I will see you. 
Let us say at five this 
afternoon , not sooner. ' ' 
"Your Eminence, 
it is an eternity ! " 

Monsieur, so far 
from it — that it is not 
even the span of a 
butterfly's life." 

The young Amer- 
ican wrung his host's 
slender hand with the 
vigorous grasp of an 

Monseigneur, " 
he said ardently and 
with blushes, " almost 
am I persuaded to be 
of your religion." 

"Monsieur, I 
would you ' were both 
almost and altogether 
such as I am,' " replied 
the Cardinal with his 
whimsical smile, 
except these bonds ' of flesh and its weakness," and he gently 
chafed his right hand. 


As the carriage approached the Boulevard des Italiens, Lois 
Norton averted her face even from the kindly glance of the 
Cardinal. She had endured too much, she felt herself to be on 
the border of hysterics, and from the bottom of her sincere, strong, 
little soul she despised a scene. Yet the circumstances were such 
as to furnish an excuse. A gens d'arme was on the box beside the 
driver; two detectives, in plain clothes, followed on bicycles. It 
was humiliating, degrading. 

" My dear child," said the Cardinal mildly, " if you had 
returned to me ? " 

" I dared not ! " she replied tremulously; " I dared not ! " 



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But now," he shrugged his shoulders, mademoiselle must 
tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." 

" I shall not," she affirmed. " I have told them that M. de 
Brissac is innocent. More I will not — I will not ! " 

" My dear child," protested the Cardinal and leaning forward 
he looked out of the window, for the carriage had stopped at 
No. 5 Boulevard des Italiens. 

It was a watchmaker's shop. The gens d'arme came to the 
carriage door and saluted. 

"Come, my daughter," said the Cardinal. 
Your Eininence," she said very low, " I trust you — I don't 
know what this means — but — but you will not betray my confi- 
dence ? " 

He looked steadily at her ; his fine, kindly old face took on 
an expression of extreme gravity. She caught her breath and laid 
her hand confidingly in his. His Eminence smiled. 

The proprietor of the shop met them with profound courtesy, 
he even kissed monseigneur's hand. The Cardinal spoke a few 
words to him, and then led Lois Norton through the shop. 

At the far end was a door that communicated with a workroom 
in the rear. The upper half of this door was of glass and through it 
they could see two watchmakers busily engaged at a table in the centre 
of a small room. Opposite, an open window poured a strong light on 
them. One, an old man with a magnifying glass screwed in his 
eye, was working at a very delicate chronometer. The other, a 
young fellow, tall and straight, stood up with a watch open in his 
hand. Having seen him, Lois Norton fell back, looking at the 
Cardinal with an expression of desperate reproach. 

"You have laid a trap for me!" she cried, with a shiver, 
wrenching her hand free. " I would not have believed it of you ! 
I could not have believed it ! " 

" Mademoiselle," he replied gently, but in an audible tone, 
" that is the murderer of M. de Lausun. You have seen him." 

As he spoke the two detectives pressed forward to the door, 
and the young watchmaker looked around and saw their faces 
through the glass. He took the alarm on the instant, and before 
they could reach him he had dashed out of the open window and 
was running toward the rue de Choiseul. Then there was the 
sound of a pistol shot. 

Lois Norton, tottering back against the wall, pressed her hands 
to her heart. 

Monseigneur," she cried, " it is not ?" 

" No," replied the Cardinal mildly, " it is not." 


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A little red glass lantern swinging at the doorpost of a house on 
the rue d'Anjou announced the presence of a commissaire dc police. 

Within, behind two sets of swinging green baize doors, sat the 
commissaire, a stiff, starched little Frenchman, intensely bourgeois 
and filled with a sense of iiis own importance. He saluted the 
Cardinal with all the respect that he could permit himself to show- 
without detriment to his official dignity, and he indicated a chair 
for the pretty, white-faced American girl who had taken him by 
storm that morning and convulsed all the theories of the murder of 
M. de Lausun. He had now to listen to the Cardinal's theory, 
and he did so with the gently bored air of a man who is unconvinced 
but courteous. 

" Your Eminence has known this young man for some time," 
he said, verifying the typewritten notes of his stenographer. " He 
was a foundling ; he is called Robert Sans-Pere ; and he is known 
to your Eminence as an anarchist, or at least as one with anarchist 
leanings ? "' 

"Precisely," replied the Cardinal. "And this young lady, 
seeing him from the window that was not blocked up by M. de 
Lausun — in short, the window that monsieur forgot — has identified 
him in the shop of M. Cremonteau, on the Boulevard des Italiens ; 
but he escaped " 

" He will be taken, monseigneur," said the commissaire with 

assurance. "My men Ah !" (he touched an electric button) 

" I saw them come in just now with the prisoner." 

As he spoke two baize doors swung open and snapped to again. 
There was a stir in the room, the Cardinal uttered an exclamation, 
and Miss Norton's hands dropped in her lap. The two detectives 
were holding a handcuffed prisoner, and the prisoner was using 
vigorous English. 

Lois sprang to her feet. 

" Richard I " she cried sharply. 

The Cardinal took a step forward and addressed the commissaire. 

" M. le Commissaire," he said, " there has been a mistake. 
This is Mr. Richard Harrington, an American." 

The two detectives looked at him in respectful indignation. 

"A thousand pardons, your Eminence," one of them protested, 
" we saw him as plainly as . This is the man from the watch- 
maker's shop; we chased and chased and found him as bold — as 
monseigneur could wish — on the Champs Elysees 


"Confound you!" exclaimed Harrington violently, " I'll see 
that this gets to my government, I'll " 

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"Oh, Richard, Richard!" sobbed Lois Norton, "it's all my 
fault. I did it — I did it! I'm the most wretched and wicked 
creature in Paris — in the whole world! " 

"M. le Commissaire," said the Cardinal, with evident agita- 
tion, "this is a mistake. On my honor, this man is not Robert 
Sans-Pere, and these handcuffs " 

But the commissaire was respectfully unconvinced. 

" Permit me, your Eminence," he said, with dignity, and fasten- 
ing his eyes on the prisoner; "what is your name, young man?" 


Richard Barrington's wrath broke all bonds. 

" None of your business ! " he retorted emphatically, " you need 
not attempt to Dreyfus an American citizen; I'll " 

The two detectives gave him a shake intended to be admonitory. 

"If you don't take your hands off of me," shouted the infuri- 
ated young man, " I'll let daylight into you — I'll " 

"My dear sir!" protested the Cardinal, foreseeing complica- 
tions, " my dear sir " 

Richard Barrington turned an indignant face upon him. 



The Booklovers Magazine 

"Is this your maneuver?" he said witheringly, have you led 
that young girl into this scandalous " 

"Silence!" commanded the commissaire, the hair bristling 
around his bald spot. 

"Oh, let him speak!" cried Lois Norton, "I deserve it — I'm 
a great deal worse than they are, Richard," she added, in English, 
" I have wronged you, I " 

"Do be still, Lois!" he broke in ruthlessly, "remember you 
are not in God's country, but here in this den of thieves and " 

The white moustaches quivered. Though he did not under- 
stand the language, the commissaire understood the tones and 

" The turbulent conduct of the prisoner " he began. 

But the Cardinal again interceded. 

"The young man's feelings are naturally lacerated," he argued, 
"there has been a mistake " 

One of the detectives could not endure this ; he had captured 
the prisoner in the sweat of his brow. 

"A million pardons, monseigneur," he cried, "but we both 
saw him in the Boulevard des Italiens; we gave chase, we found 
him on the Champs Elysees. He fought, your Eminence, he gave 
Louis a black eye and me a sore head, but what would you? We 
call for help, we take him, we carry him to M. Cremonteau to 
assure us that we make no mistake, and Cremonteau looked at him. 
'Oui,' he said, ' oui, it is the man, but — sacre V^ierge Marie! — how 
quick he has stolen another man's clothes!' and he ran back to 
count his watches. Bien, monseigneur, this is the man." 

"This is a question between you and his Eminence," said the 
commissaire severely; "are you positive?" 

The detective rubbed his hands together and raised protesting 
eyes to heaven. 

"M'sieur," he said, "as the nose on my own face — do I see 
him. I can swear to him in Paradise. It is only the good coat 
that deceives monseigneur." 

Lois Norton pushed past the Cardinal. 

"But it is I — I who have the right to say," she cried, "I saw 
the man from the window of the pension. I can take oath that 
this is not the same." 

The cominissaire bowed, with the blandest of smiles. 

"Mademoiselle," he said suavely, "a thousand pardons, but 
you have already shown your readiness to shield the assassin; you 
refused this morning to reveal his name. Stratagem had to be 
used. Mademoiselle, your evidence is therefore open to question." 


The Booklovers Magazine 



She wrung her hands, collapsing into her chair, scorched by a 
sudden glance of comprehension from Richard Harrington. 

"Great heavens!" he murmured, "did you thinic that?" 

The commissaire brushed an insistent fly from the bald spot 
and began to read his notes again. The Cardinal was plainly 
perturbed; he even wiped the moisture from his brow. 

The prisoner was taken — after violent resistance — on the 
Champs Elysees," said the commissaire to his stenographer, "at 
what hour?" he added, speaking to the detectives. 

"M. le Commissaire," interrupted the Cardinal excitedly, "I 
protest! This matter will prove an international difficulty; I pro- 
test — 1 affirm that this is not the man," 

The commissaire twirled his moustaches and the stenographer 
suspended his pencil. 

" Monseigneur's pardon," said the commissaire, respectful and 
mulish," but the prisoner must be committed for examination." 

Lois Norton unpinned her veil with trembling fingers and let 
it fall over her face. The Cardinal laid a consoling hand on her 
shoulder, but his expression was. one of deep perplexity. 

The young American tried to shake of? the little French- 
men who hung on either arm, and he glared furiously at the 

The latter bowed to the Cardinal. 

"If your Eminence and mademoiselle will step into the next 
room," he said, rubbing his hands softly, "the prisoner will be 
formally and impartially examined." 

Lois Norton turned toward him ; even through her veil the 
tears could be seen on her white cheeks. 

"Why should I go?" she asked desperately, "I'm an accom- 
plice, I'm " 

The Cardinal caught her arm in a strenuous grasp. 

" My child ! " he said sharply. 

At this moment a gens d'arme burst into the room. He was 
filled with excitement and covered with dust. He saluted and 
stood at attention. 

"Well?" said the commissaire. 

" M. le Commissaire " he began, and then he saw Richard 

Barrington and stopped with mouth and eyes wide open. 

It was then that the Cardinal slipped quietly out of the room. 


When the Cardinal returned Barrington was undergoing the 
interrogation, and the commissaire wore the look of a man who 


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was awaking from the nightmare. Monseigneur softly approached 
the weeping girl. 

" My daughter," he said gently in her ear, " are you brave 
enough to look on something painful ? Are you brave enough to 
meet death face to face — to save life ?" 

She nodded her head, choking back her sobs. She was past 
speech. The Cardinal went over and whispered to the commis- 
saire. Then he took her by the hand, and led her out through 
the green baize doors. They went through a corridor with many 
low arches. They descended a short flight of steps. A gens d'arme 
saluted and opened the last low door. 

" My dear child," said the Cardinal gently, " the young man 
was shot by a gens d'arme as he leaped over the garden wall behind 
the shop of M. Cremonteau ; yet he was able to run — dodging and 
eluding them — three squares. When he fell they found him at the 
mouth of an alley. Can you look at him ?" 

She shivered a little ; then, withdrawing her hand from his, 
she lifted her veil and approached the table, a long, narrow one, in 
the centre of the room. On it was stretched the lifeless form of a 
young man, in shabby but decent clothes; his chestnut hair fell 
away from a white forehead, there was no disfigurement. Feature 
by feature the face was the face of Richard Harrington. 

" Is it he ?" asked the Cardinal softly. 

"Yes," she moaned. "And I have ruined Richard! I — I 
have killed this man ! Oh, monseigneur ! " 

" Mademoiselle," he said firmly, " you have saved the life of 
M. Claude de Brissac." 

She burst into a passion of weeping. " Take me away! " she 
cried. " I can't bear it ! Take me away ! " 


It was long past five o'clock. In his Eminence's own great 
chair sat Lois Norton, crumpled and pale and forlorn. The 
Cardinal was telling her a long story. 

Mademoiselle," he explained, "I knew when you made your 
first confession that the man whom you had seen shoot M. de 
Lausun was your lover, and when M. Harrington came to me it 
was not difficult to put two and two together. Also, I knew you 
were mistaken." 

She wrung her hands together. " Monseigneur," she cried, 
that is it, that is it ! He can never forgive me, he ought never 
to forgive me. See how wicked I was to suspect him. But I saw 
the man so plainly. What could I think ? " 

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"My daughter," replied 
the Cardinal, " all this, in a 
word, came from the window 
that monsieur forgot. Had 
he remembered it, had he 

closed it " 

I should be a happy 
woman," she sighed; "and 
now I am wretched, and I 
deserve to be ! " 

The Cardinal leaned 
over and touched her hand. 

" And M. de Brissac 
would have died the death/' 
he said softly, " and his 
fiancee would have been 
broken-hearted, and his aged 

mother Mademoiselle, 1 

stopped on my way here to 

tell her of the blessed release 

of her son, and she fell on 

her knees to call down the 

blessings of heaven upon you. 

Your little locket was the 

connecting link in the chain 

of fate. Seeing that, I divined 

who Richard Barrington was 

— the son of Hortense de Montble ; and therefore the likeness to 

Robert Sans-Pere, the waif, the foundling, the anarchist." 

But why?" she asked drearily. " But why? If the two 
were twins it could not be more perfect." 

" My chdd," said the Cardinal, " the world is very wicked. 
Hortense de Montble had a twin brother, the marquis, a crooked 
stick, mademoiselle, who is — happily for his relatives — dead. Alas! 
our sins die not with us. What is it your great English poet says? 
' The evil that men do lives after them.' M. le Marquis left behind 
him a nameless, unrecognized child, a son. All these years I have 
known it and tried to reclaim him ; but the evil root was deeper 
than the good root, the tares sprang up faster than the wheat." 

And he was really a sort of base-born cousin of Richard?" 
she asked miserably. 

The Cardinal nodded. 

"This likeness," he said thoughtfully, "was it not strange, 



The Booklovers Magazine 


mademoiselle? Yet once before I have known of it — the children 
of twins being as like as twins." 

"Alas," she sij^hed, "I have saved a life and I have lost a life 
— this poor wretch ! Also, Richard will never forgive me — I dare 
not ask him; I have doubted him — oh, monseigneur, what shall I 
do? I ran about Paris, too, like a lunatic. My aunt, Richard, 
everybody — oh, I know! But we American girls are used to 
freedom, to respect " 

" My dear child," said the Cardinal, with a humorous twinkle, 

"there is an old proverb, 'when you go to Rome '" 

' It will all be in the newspapers at home with big headlines!" 
she cried, with sudden dry-eyed horror; "the arrest, my suspicions 
of — of Richard — oh, he can't forgive me, how could he? and Aunt 
Hailey ! " she shuddered. "And think of my figuring in a yellow 
journal!" she dropped her face in her hands. 

The Cardinal's eyes twinkled again. 

" My dear child," he said soothingly, " I believe I have been in 
one myself. What do you call it — 'yellow'? It may have been 
green — but I was sold for fifty francs per column." 

" Oh, that is different ! " cried Lois, "and j'ou haven't a grand- 

"I had one," submitted the Cardinal hopefully. 

The Cardinal's door-bell rang furiously. She sprang up, white 
as a ghost. 

" Oh," she gasped, " is it ? " 

"Yes," he replied gently, "the commissaire fully understood 
at last; besides, the American Ambassador wired from Carlsbad. 
Your friend, having relieved his feelings in — er — strong language — 
is undoubtedly at large." 

"It is he! " she cried, in wide-eyed terror; 
me — I dare not, oh, I dare not face him ! 
forgive me " 

But the Cardinal had quietly withdrawn. 

' monseigneur, hide 
He'll never — never 


Richard Barrington lifted the portiere and stepped into the 
room. There was a sharp exclamation and he stood still. The 
girl shivered and shrank away, hiding her face. 

" Kill me, Richard ! " she moaned, " I — I really deserve it " 

"Lois," he said sailly, "I should never have doubted you!" 
"Oh, you do not know," she pleaded, "you have not been so 
tested — if you had seen — seen me with your own eyes " 


The Booklovers Magazine 




I should never have doubted you," he repeated steadily. 

"I deserve it," she said faintly, "but nevertheless you are very 

To this he made no reply; he stood looking very intently at 
the floor. 

There was a long pause. The clock on the mantel ticked 
loudly. She flung herself into the Cardinal's chair again and laid 
her head on the table. 

" Oh, that window ! " she sobbed, " that window that monsieur 
forgot! If I had never looked out — I should be happy — 1 " 

The Cardinal came back quietly, leading an old woman draped 
in widow's weeds. She went to the girl and kneeling down beside 
her, kissed her hand, tears streaming down her lined face. 

"Oh, don't — don't!" cried Lois, in misery, "I'm a wretch — 
a " 

'May the saints bless you," cried Mme. de Brissac, "for my 
son who was dead is alive again. All my life will I love you, made- 
moiselle, and bless you ! " 

"Oh, niadame!" cried the girl, "pray for me — I have broken 
my own heart to save yours, I " 

"Lois!" cried her lover, and oblivious of all the world he held 
out his arms. 

She looked at him wide-eyed, her whole air one of deep 

" Can you forgive me, Richard?" she murmured, "can you 
forgive me ? I have suffered so — it has almost killed me — I — you 
have seen the — your double ? " 

He smiled. "Lois," he said softly, "you shall never suffer 
through me again." 

A flush passed over her face, her lips quivered. 

" Richard," she sobbed, " Richard — how good you are ! " 

The Cardinal stood in the door, the soft light fell on his white 
hair where it showed below his biretta, on his sweet, humorous, 
old face, on his red cassock, and his red stockings. Lois slipped 
away from her lover and, running across the room, fell on her knees 
at his Eminence's feet. 

"I shall always love you," she sobbed, "will you bless me 
— even me, mon pere ? " 

A tender smile illumined the Cardinal's face, he laid his thin 
white hand gently on her bowed head in benediction. 

" My child," he said sweetly, the twinkle in his kindly, humor- 
ous old eyes," it is well that we do not observe our neighbors too 
closely — especially from the window that monsieur forgot." 

Copyright, IQOJ, by J^^K' Company 

Courtesy 0/ I.rslu'i Weekly 



Our Antiquated Postal Service 

Tiny Switzerland has many things to 
teach us. So have Germany, France, and 
England. True, these countries are 
smaller and more thickly settled, and they 
do less postal business: the combined gov- 
ernment post-office and telegraph work in 
either Germany or England, or the com- 
bined postal business of England and 
France, do not equal the transactions of 
the United States post-office. Less trans- 
portation is needed abroad. Employees 
can be worked more hours. Wages are 
lower. But every one of these differences 
holds true of European and American pri- 
vate industries, yet American industry is 
the most effective and productive in the 
world. The Government postal business 
should not be the "lame duck" of our 
economic life. 

In a German city — take Berlin, for 
example — there is a post-office every few 
hundred yards; a post-office can be found 
as easily as a cigar store in New York. A 
network of underground tubes connects all 
but the very smallest. Ordinary mail goes 
from station to station by Government- 
owned wagons, but a special delivery card 
or stamp, costing less than eight cents, 
will cause a message to be shot by the 
tube anywhere in the city. A messenger 
will carry it from the point of reception 
the few necessary yards to the receiver, 
and will wait for an answer. Message 
and answer in Berlin take about two hours. 
This is service far speedier than any in our 
own country. 

The German telegraph system is an 
adjunct of the post-office. Telegrams, 
costing twelve cents for ten words, includ- 
ing address, beat special delivery letters by 
just the margin between electric and 
pneumatic transmission. Postal checks 
for small amounts almost wholly take the 
place of bank checks. One may send a 
postal money-order with a message written 
on the back; and a postal messenger will 
bring it to the house of the receiver and 
pay it there on the spot — service as accu- 
rate and complete as by personal messenger. 
Subscription to magazines and newspapers 
is through the post-office ; you pay the 
postmaster, he orders the proper number 
of publications for his office, and the jour- 
nals come cheaply and smoothly in bulk to 
the several stations for delivery. And not 
only does a parcels-post do practically all 
the German express business at low rates, 
depending on weight and distance, but 
Germany, through agreements with other 
nations, sends parcels round the world. I 
know a resident of Berlin who has a pack- 
age of meat mailed to him every Saturday 
from a point one hundred and fifty miles 
away in Silesia for a little more than twelve 
cents — the rate for a twenty-pound parcel. 
German merchants deliver most of their 
goods by mail — the small storekeeper is thus 
provided with as good a delivery service as 
the larger. All the parcels, large and 
small, are brought, of course, to the 
address to which they are directed. Ger- 
mans have even been permitted to mail 
eleven-pound parcels to addresses in the 
United States. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

The highly centralized German system 
— developed by Dr. Stephan, who held 
office as Minister of the Post-Office 
through ministry after ministry, and now 
conducted by Herr Kreahtlce, who grew 
up in the service — makes its main business 
to give admirable public service. And it 
pays. This shows the results of a care- 
fully organized machine conducted by 
skilled and permanent officials. 

In London the pneumatic tube system 
is so perfected that within the radius of 
London one may send an ordinary letter, 
receive an answer, send another and 
receive an answer to that, all in the course 
of a day. Deliveries run until nine and 
ten o'clock in the evening. The English 
post-office maintains a telegraph system, 
conveying twelve-word messages all over 
Great Britain and Ireland for twelve cents, 
and a parcels-post system comparable to 
the German, and furthermore maintains a 
savings bank. All this pays. The United 
States post-office fails to give such service 
and fails to pay even its expenses. — M. G. 
Cunniffxa The World's Work. 

Gorman Smiles and Waits 

Some people say Senator Arthur Pue 
Gorman, of Maryland, looks like an actor 
— and he does. Some people say he is an 
actor — and, perhaps, he is. Nevertheless, 
he is the strongest individual force on the 
Democratic side of the United States Sen- 
ate, and the man to whom the Democrats 
look to organize an intelligent opposition 
to President Roosevelt. 

A half-hour's conversation with him is a 
liberal education in suavity and adroitness. 
" Smooth " describes him. He has an ex- 
pansive, genial, almost afifectionate, smile 
for all comers. He shakes hands with a 
fervor that sends thrills up one's arm, that 
seems to radiate the electricity of "I am 
glad to see you." Then he finds out all 
one knows and tells nothing ho knows, and 
sends one away filled with the joy of living. 

His face is clean-shaven, finely molded, 
and ruddy with health. His powerful nose 
stands out between two twinkling eyes. 
He smiles with his whole face. His voice 
is soft and low. His clothes fit his well- 
filled figure perfectly. He never seems in 
a hurry. He always harmonizes with his 

surroundings. He stage-manages himself 

He has seen much service in the Senate, 
where he was once a page. He learned his 
politics in Maryland, where politics is an 
art. He knows how the great legislative 
machine of the Government runs, under- 
stands every cog, eccentric, and lever. He 
was a leader there when the Republican 
landslide retired him six years ago, and he 
will be the leader there now that he has 
returned, despite the efforts of Bailey and 
some of the younger Democrats to displace 

Gorman's great strength lies in the fact 
that he knows and can execute. He is a 
strategist. He understands the value of 
compromise. He can use the battle-axe, 
if necessary, but he is most expert with 
the flag of truce and the conference. He 
has been criticized harshly for his stand on 
many public questions, notably his protec- 
tionist ideas, but he has calmly gone along 
and maintained both his poise and his 

His recent speech attacking President 
Roosevelt for his attitude on the race 
question shows how the wind is blowing. 
That was a bid for the votes of the South 
in the next Democratic National Conven- 
tion. He will make similar attacks in the 
Senate. His purpose is to discredit the 
President as much as possible and to draw 
public attention to himself, which he will 
do. He will take active charge of the 
messed and manacled Democracy in the 
Senate, and will make a good fighting 
machine out of it to assist in his selection 
to oppose Mr. Roosevelt next year. If he 
wins, he will be the last man to get excited 
about it. If he loses, his smile will not 
fade. — Collier's Weekly. 

He Wasn't Quite Sure 

It was comparatively but a short time 
ago that the old rules of the English courts 
were in full force and vigor in the conserv- 
ative State of South Carolina. Thus it 
was distinctly provided that each attorney 
and counselor, while engaged in a trial, 
must wear "a black gown and coat." 
But on one occasion James L. Pettigrue, 
one of the leaders of the bar, appeared 
dressed in a light coat. 

"Mr. Pettigrue," said the judge, "you 

Courtesy of Barter'' s ff^eeilf 




The Booklovers Magazine 

have on a light coat. You cannot speak, 

"Oh, your honor," Pettigrue replied, 
"may it please the Court, 1 conform to 
the law." 

"No, Mr. Pettigrue, you have on a 
light coat. The Court cannot hear you." 

" But, your honor," insisted the lawyer, 
"you misinterpret. Allow me to illustrate. 
The law says tliat a barrister must wear ' a 
black gown and coat,' does it not?" 

" Yes," replied the judge. 

"And does your honor hold that both 
the gown and the coat must be black?" 

"Certainly, Mr. Pettigrue, certainly, 
sir," answered his honor. 

■'And yet it is also provided by law," 
continued Mr. Pettigrue, " that the sheriff 
must wear 'a cocked hat and sword,' is 
it not?" 

"Yes, yes,'" was the somewhat impatient 

"And does the Court hold," questioned 
Pettigrue, " that the sword must be cocked 
as well as the hat ? " 

" Eh — er — h'm," mused his honor, " you 
— er — may — er — continue your speech, 
Mr. Pettigrue." — Success. 

The Curse of Caste 

What is it, at bottom, that makes the 
English atmosphere so difficult for an 
American to breathe in freely? It is, I 
believe, that he feels himself in a country 
where the dignity of life is lower than in 
his own; a country where a man born in 
ordinary circumstances expects, and is ex- 
pected, to die in ordinary circumstances; 
where the scope of his efforts is traced 
beforehand by the accident of position ; 
where he is handicapped in all cases and 
crushed in most by the superincumbent 
weight of caste, convention, " good form," 
and the deadening artificialities of an old 
society. That unconquerable buoyancy 
which infects the American air like a sting 
and challenge, and braces every American 
with the inspiration that he has a chance 
in life; that there are open opportunities, 
unreserved possibilities, no battering at 
locked doors, no floundering in blank 
alleys; that here, in short, it is the man 
himself who makes his career — is some- 
thing which the English have so utterly 
lost as to be incapable of realizing it. 

I feel sure that if one could follow the 
workings of the caste system into their 
uttermost details, one could find that the 
hopelessness and servility bred by it are 
responsible for perhaps half the commer- 
cial inefficiency and unprogressiveness of 
England. It makes for stagnation, just as 
certainly as it makes for that class rancor 
which gives to English trade-unionism its 
peculiarly bitter strength. At one point 
in the social scale you may find its fruits 
in the worship of externals and appear- 
ances, in an overvaluation of the purely 
decorative, non-productive elements of life. 
At another, it will be repressing and cir- 
cumscribing the ability of the "vulgar" in 
favor of genteel incompetence; at a third, 
you will see it spouting in geysers of flun- 
keyism. Between King Edward VII on 
his royal throne and the London " floor- 
walker," who makes you shiver with the 
abjectness of his bowings and scrapings, 
the connection of cause and effect may 
not at first be apparent. It is there, disas- 
trously there, all the same; and the caste 
spirit is the link. When the Monarchy 
sets the example of governing, rewarding, 
behaving with a single eye to merit, there 
is no room and no temptation on the lower 
strata for slimy servility. When the Royal 
influence, however, tends palpably in the 
other direction, it will breed flunkeys, as 
the New Jersey marshes breed mosquitoes. 
— Jnglo - American in North American 

The Passing of the Broom 

An ingenious and portable air-pump will 
probably take the place of the old-fashioned 
broom in housecleaning operations. The 
carpet renovators are of various sizes, rang- 
ing from 12 to 36 inches in width. They 
consist of a steel framework which lies 
flat on the surface of the fabric. This is 
termed a hood, and contains an expanded 
nozzle connecting with the hose. In the 
bottom of the hood is a slot about i-ioo 
inch in width, through which the air passes 
in what might be termed a sheet. It is 
forced into the fabric at various pressures, 
accordmg to the thickness of the latter 
and the amount of dirt which has accumu- 
lated. The usual pressure varies from 60 
to 70 pounds to the square inch. This is 
sufficient to blow the dirt out of and from 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Courtesy of the ScientHc ySmerican 


These pictures shoiv the neiv ivay to clean house : by means of an air 
blast njjhich forces the dust into a hooded receiver and prevents its escape 

under the covering. It passes upward 
through two other slots into the hood, as 
it cannot escape outside of the machine on 
account of the weight on the surface. It 
is prevented from escaping into the air by 
a cloth bag which collects it, but is loose 
enough to allow the air to pass through. 
The dirt settles into a pan especially de- 
signed to collect it. When filled, this can 
be readily removed, by taking off the bag, 
and emptied. To the renovator is attached 
a handle for moving it over the floor. The 
handle also acts as a conduit for the com- 
pressed air, the supply of which is regu- 
lated by an ordinary valve. The apparatus 
is usually pushed over the carpet and does 
its work so thoroughly that it will remove 
any kind of substance which can be driven 
out by air pressure. In several instances 
flour was thrown upon a rug and trod in 
with the feet. When the renovator was 
applied it apparently collected every particle 
of the flour, none escaping into the air. 

In treating lambrequins and other kinds 
of upholstery the hose is connected with a 
jointed steel tube long enough to extend 
to the upper portion of the apartment. 
The ordinary air blast is directed against 
the draperies and the dirt is allowed to settle 
upon the floor and furniture. Obviously 
the draperies and upper portions of an 
apartment are the first cleaned, then the 
furniture and floor covering. For remov- 
ing the dust from upholstered chairs, sofas, 
and other kinds of furniture, what might 
be called a hand renovator is employed. It 
is constructed on the same principle as the 
larger type with the slots for applying the 
air pressure and collecting the dust, and is 
pushed over the surface by hand. If the 
chair, for example, is stufifed with cotton 
or some other material more power is em- 
ployed to force the air through this mate- 
rial as well. As already stated, even billiard 
table coverings are thoroughly cleaned of 
the chalk and dirt in the same way. In 


The Booklovers Magazine 

freeing such articles as pillows and mat- 
tresses a simple pneumatic needle is used, 
the air heing injected with sufficient force 
to circulate among the feathers, straw, or 
other stuffing and expel the dust which 
may have collected. — Scuntific American. 

Whistler's 'Gentle Art" 

Mr. Whistler was a wit rather than a 
humorist, loving rather to sting than to 
tickle. Indeed, his closest friends declare 
that his VIS comica was to be considered as 
one of his main weapons of attack and 
defence. We are told that "he meant to 
hurt," and it is certain that he greatly irri- 
tated many of those who did not know 
how to take him, and who ignored the fact, 
which he himself has recorded, that he 
was "a bundle of nerves and dyspepsia." 
His humor was somewhat Mephistophe- 
lian. In the catalogue of his exhibition he 
applied art criticisms to works other than 
those of which those criticisms were origi- 
nally written, and of which they had been 
published. He went further : he added to 
his somewhat mischievous fun — as to the 
secret of which, of course, he did nothing 
to enlighten the public — the deliberate 
misprinting of an expression of Mr. Wed- 
more's. Mr. Wedmore had written in 
respect of Mr. Whistler's work a sentence 
to the efifect that " I do not wish to under- 
state it." Mr. Whistler reprinted it "I 
do not wish to understand it," well know- 
ing that the writer would hasten to correct 
him in the press. This, of course, so fell 
out, and Mr. Whistler immediatelv replied 
{The World, February 28. 1883), "My 
negligence is culpable, and the misprint 
without excuse; for, naturally, 1 have all 
along known, and the typographer should 
have been duly warned, that with Mr. 
Wedmore, as with his brothers, it is always 
a matter of understating, and not at all of 
understanding." The retort was much 
enjoyed by the public, who were not aware 
that the whole had been carefully prepared 
by Mr. Whistler, and that his retort was 
penned at the same time as the original 
"inexcusable misprint." Mr. Whistler 
could appreciate also a joke in others. It 
happened once that in playful mischief he 
made some difficulty about paying his sub- 
scription to the Arts Club by the appointed 
date. In reply to the secretary's applica- 

tion he wrote a long characteristic reply, 
but sent no cheque. The chairman (Mr. 
Basil Field) was requested to communicate 
with him in a friendly way, for it was felt 
that the matter was not a serious one. 
Mr. Field, knowing his man, wrote to Mr. 
WhiGtler that "what they asked for was 
not a 'Composition in Hlack and W^hite,' 
but an 'Arrangement in Gold and Silver, " 
at which Mr. Whistler was so tickled that 
he sent a cheque by return of post. — M. 
H. Spielmann in The Alagazine of Art. 

The American as a "Sitter" 

My experience in portraiture has almost 
wholly been limited to the English and 
American nations. I have only painted a 
few Germans and one Russian lady. But 
between the English and American nations 
there are marked differences of demeanor 
and habits of thought which materially 
aflfect the sitter's personality for the 
painter. The Englishman, for instance, 
has an ingrained shyness which often 
uncomfortably disguises the strong and 
courageous inner man, and puts the diag- 
nosing painter of? the scent and on a wrong 
track. Not so the American ; he is cool, 
collected, and self-possessed, and is ///wj^//, 
so to speak, wherever he is. He is proud 
of this, and, being a student of human 
nature, and a reader of character, puts the 
painter at once on his mettle, for he makes 
the painter feel he has to read a reader, 
and is undergoing precisely what he 
attempts to make his sitter undergo. This 
is a mutual advantage, and saves time. 
Being quick acting, the sympathies or 
antipathies are quickly settled. But the 
Englishman is shy in asking your terms ; 
shy when he sees himself on the canvas; 
shy in offering you the money when the 
work is done, or, if a presentation portrait, 
shy when the portrait is presented to him ; 
but, with strange inconsistency, seems to 
throw aside all shyness in his anxiety to be 
exiiibited in the Royal Academy. The 
American knows himself. When I painted 
a man who carries on an enormous drapery 
business in Boston, he said to me, " You 
must get my eyes, for I trade on 'em ! " 
The American wants no precedent, and, 
indeed, rather despises it. The English- 
man cannot exist without it. Canova 
said, "The English see with their ears." 

Courtesy of The Magaxine of Art 




The Booklovers Magazine 

It is this difference in the respective con- 
stitutions of the two nations which causes 
the difference in the personaHty, the iden- 
tity ; and tliey must be understood before 
any attempt is made to put them promi- 
nently and indelibly before the eyes of the 
world. And, mind, portraiture is nothing 
when devoid of this element of personal 
truth. — H. von Herkomer, R.A.y in The 
Alagazine of Art. 


An Irishman entered a country inn and 

called for a glass of the best Irish whisky. 

After being supplied he drank it, and was 

about to walk out when the following 

conversation took place : 

Landlord — "Here, sir, you haven't paid 

for that whisky you ordered." 

Irishman — "What's that you say?" 
Landlord — " I said you haven't paid for 

that whisky you ordered." 

Irishman — " Did you pay for it ?' 
Landlord — "Of course I did." 
Irishman — " Well, thin, what's the good 

of both of us paying for it ?" — Tit -Bits. 




Alcoholism among the Nations 

A Paris correspondent of the New York 
Evening Post tells an interesting story 
about alcoholism in France. The average 
consumption of alcohol at lOO degrees in 
France in 1830 was 6yi litres to each 
inhabitant. It was then drunk chiefly in 
the form of wine. A litre is a little more 
than a cjuart. The average consumption 
in 1900 was 18 Vs litres, half in wine, a 
fourth in beer or cider, and a fourth in 
spirits. As some districts in France are 
still reasonably abstemious, the consump- 
tion in other districts is much above the 
average, Normandy and Brittany being 
especially drunken, and showing very 
serious results from it. It is not that the 
people get violently drunk, but that they 
keep themselves constantly drugged with 
alcohol, with ominous results in the form 
of disease and degeneracy. The average 
consumption of alcohol is estimated to be 
I33'2 litres in Switzerland, about lO in Bel- 
gium, Italy, and Denmark, about 9 in 
Germany, England, and Austria, 6 in Hol- 
land, 5 in the United States, and 2 in Can- 
ada. The poorer classes are most 
affected in France. The middle 
and higher classes as a rule have 
intelligence enough to restrict 
their potations. Other coun- 
tries have been as drunken as 
France and have reformed. In 
Sweden in 1823 the average 
annual allowance to each inhab- 
itant was 23/2 litres of pure 
alcohol. Now it is 5 litres. 
Finland, between l850and 1900, 
came down from 20 litres to 2. 
England, where there is a special 
effort now to restrict the indul- 
gence of the drunken, has in 
tvventy-five years reduced her 
annual per capita allowance from 
10 litres to 9. The great trouble 
at present in France seems to 
be that the government is not 
strong enough to restrict the 
manufacture and sale of liquors. 
Government in France needs 
votes. There are very nearly 
half a million wine-shops in 
France, and last year, in spite of 
repressive legislation, there were 

THAI- WOMAN ' o • I- -ll 

'.putur.Bo<,k. 1,137,328 private distillers who 

The Booklovers Magazine 


made alcohol or brandy from their own pro- 
duce for their own use. Th is enormous prev- 
alenceof private stillsseems appalling. Their 
number has increased sevenfold since 1879. 
Government not only needs the votes of 
distillers and wine-sellers, but the revenue 
from alcohol is indispensable. So the prob- 
lem is a hard one, but it must be solved, 
because to neglect it means destruction. — 
Harper' s IVeekly. 

The Ethics of the Subordinate 

Can one who is in a subordinate posi- 
tion in the business world preserve a high 
moral standard, in view of the possible 
failure of moral methods in those who 
administer the business? It is a very easy 
thing to say that if a young man employed 
by a business house finds its methods in- 
direct, dishonest, and untruthful, he may 
leave his position rather than abandon his 
moral ideals. Like most things that are 
easy to say, it is very often hard to do. 
In the first place, the subordinate belongs, 
as a rule, to an almost unlimited class 
of workers. The average worker 
has very little choice. His necessities 
compel him to get a living. Condi- 
tions of self-respect require that the 
living shall be honestly made. What 
is the ethical refuge of employees 
who may be confronted by these 
methods, which their moral sense 
disapproves? Two or three things 
must come to pass before the moral 
relation of employer and employee 
can be properly adjusted. First, a 
more intimate knowledge by the 
heads of a great business of each 
least detail concerning the well-being 
of their whole army of industry. 
When masters of industry understand 
that their well-being and success 
depend quite as fully as, in the con- 
duct of a campaign, the general's 
success depends upon the weakest 
point in the whole body being 
strengthened, men will enter mer- 
cantile life as a great vocation, not 
simply because it deals with vast 
industry, but because it deals with 
vast masses of human beings. The 
second thing that must come to 
pass before the moral relations 
of employer and employee are 

properly adjusted is the recognition of 
that law of human nature that all the 
conditions of life cannot be fulfilled 
where an insufficient wage is paid for 
exhausting work. It is not enough to say 
that people can be got for that remunera- 
tion. If the remuneration does not pro- 
vide a means of decent living, all manner 
of temptations present themselves to make 
good the difference. The passion for gam- 
bling among employees of the mercantile 
class is alarmingly prevalent. Of course, 
it is a fatal remedy, but it arises from the 
desire to enter the world all at once with 
the great gambling public which is stricken 
through with the desire to get something 
for nothing. Old-fashioned self-denial is 
no longer popular; and the restraint which 
comes with saving carries with it a kind 
of undefined sense of embarrassment and 
shame. A little less greed, a little more 
care, and above all an embracing sense 
of human brotherhood, are tlie elements 
which enter into the devising of that plan 
of business life which shall make the em- 



The Booklovers Magazine 


ployer the guardian of the employee, and 
the employee the devoted friend of the 
employer. In the nature of things the 
subordinate can never be other than the 
man under orders; but his orders may be 
of a kind that he shall delight to carry 
out, because they engross not simply his 
energy, but command also the highest 
offices of his mind. He has the right to 
expect a dividend on the investment of 
himself in another man's business; and 
the lifting of his moral nature to a higher 
level is not only an ideal, it is a necessity 
on which the existence of society depends. 
— Thomas R. S/icer in The Cosmopolitan. 

The Five Minute Debate 

Not infrequently at his first session a 
representative or a senator has come to 
the front and cominanded the attention 
and following of his fellow-members. It is 
a question of ability. If he essays a flight 
beyond his wings, he must bear the morti- 
fication of failure, but if, as sometimes 
happens, he is master of the situation, he 
takes his place at the front. 

The rules governing the consideration 
of bills in the House of Representatives 
provide that when general debate is closed, 
any member shall be allowed five minutes 
to explain any amendment he may ofifer, 
after which the member who may first 
obtain the floor shall be allowed to speak 
the same length of time in opposition. 

But under this rule the five-minute 
debate must be germane to the amend- 
ment. No opportunity is afforded by it 
to the new member to make what could 
properly be termed his maiden speech. By 
cultivating the friendship and Obtaining the 
respect and confidence of a chairman or 
minority leader of one of the more prom- 
inent committees he will soon be given his 

For a new Congressman to interrupt a 
speaker to ask a question in the line of 
debate sometimes means trouble for the 
offender. Not so very many years ago a 
prominent member of the House of Repre- 
sentatives was making an eloquent speech 
upon a party measure, and with character- 
istic ability was avoiding the details of the 
subject, which he was well aware would 
not stand too close scrutiny. 

Right in the middle of his eloquence he 

was asked a very pertinent question by a 
new and unheard-of member, and it was 
demanded that a reply of either yes or no 
be given. As it would not have been 
advantageous to the orator's argument to 
make such an answer, and as he resented 
the interruption from the new member, he 
at first paid no attention to the question. 

The query was repeated in such a man- 
ner as to attract the attention of the entire 
House, whereupon the speaker turned to 
the persistent questioner, and asked him if 
he were not aware that there were some 
questions which it was impossible to answer 
satisfactorily by either yes or no. 

"I defy you to give me an example of 
such a question," was the reply. 

"Tell me by either yes or no if you are 
still beating your wife?" 

It is hardly necessary to state that the 
question was not answered, and the con- 
troversy ended amid the laughter of the 
House and the confusion of the preco- 
cious beginner. — John D. Long in Youth's 

In Praise of Marie Corelli 

Marie Corelli is bold ; perhaps she is the 
boldest writer that has ever lived. What 
she believes she says, with a brilliant fear- 
lessness that sweeps aside petty argument 
in its giant's stride towards the goal for 
which she aims. She will have no half- 
measures. Her works, gathered together 
under one vast cover, might fitly be printed 
and published as an amplified edition of the 

It is small wonder, then, that she has 
not earned the approbation of those critics 
who are unable to grasp the stupendous 

Courtesy of George IV . Ja<obs 




The Booklovers Magazine 

nature of her proji;raninic ; tliey, having 
always hc-ld by certain canons, and finding 
those canons brusquely disregarded, retort 
with wholesale condemnation of matters 
that they deem literary heterodoxy, but 
whose sterling simplicity is in reality alto- 
gether beyoiui their ken. Fortunately, 
their words have failed to frighten of? the 
public, which, ever loyal to one fighting 
for the right, has supported and befriended 
Marie Corelli in her dauntless crusade 
against vice and unbelief. 

It may be asked, What is Marie Corelli's 
life-programme .'' Most writers have a 
definite object in view — this one to achieve 
immortality; that one to make money. 
What is Marie Corelli's? 

Briefly she writes — has always written 
— to reach the hearts and minds of those 
thinking people of today who are striving 
to combat the subtleties of the agnostic 
and atheist; to strengthen their faith in the 
truth, the reality, the goodness of God and 
Christianity; the people who have hearts 
that throb with tenderness, hope, love, ami 
sincerity. She would purify society. She 
would destroy the rule of unbelief and in- 
sincerity, and raise in its place ideal char- 
acters and conditions strongly built upon 
a foundation of faith and truth. Such is 
Marie Corelli's programme. 

Hut what of that self of which so much 
has been heard ? It is a personality strik- 
ing in its simplicity and in its power. 
Marie Corelli is a woman of women, sim- 
ple in her tastes, strong in her faiths anil 
aims, with a heart full of sympathy for 
others, living a busy life that from its pro- 
ductiveness in the world of literature is a 
constant influence for good in the hearts 
and homes of thousands the world over, 
and in its private relationships a source 
of help, inspiration, and benefit to those 
with whom she conies in contact. — From 
Marie Corel/i, by J. F. G. Coates antl R. 
S. Bell (George W, Jacobs). 

Why the Stomach does not 
Digest Itself 

When we consider the extraordinary 
dissolvent potency which the juices of the 
human stomach must possess in order to 
digest the strange assortment of substances 
that we are in the habit of putting down 
our throats, we wonder how it is that these 

juices do not turn the walls of the diges- 
tive tract and the whole digestive apparatus 
into chyme and chyle. 1 he digestive tract 
is filled with ferments capable of dissoKing 
food ; but these ferments do not attack the 
intestinal walls nor the parasitic worms 
that often live there. Recent investiga- 
tions conducted by E. Weinland have 
shown that this immunity is due to the 
secretion by the living tissues of certain 
anti-ferments. The following interesting 
experiment was made : A mixture of fibrin 
and trypsin or pepsin was prepared and, 
after the addition of a small quantity cf the 
juice of ascarides, or round worms, it was 
found that no digestion of the fibrin took 
place. The ferment did not attack the 
fibrin even when no more of the juice of 
parasitic worms ^\ as atlded for an hour. It 
is thus not the living tissues that resist diges- 
tion, it is the juices that impregnate them, 
which they themselves have produced. — 
Harper's ITeekly. 

Mommsen, Scholar and 

At his death Professor Mommsen occu- 
pied a unique position in contemporary 
Europe. By common consent he was the 
foremost scholar, both by virtue of the 
extent and variety of his attainments, and 
the extraordinary literary value of one or 
two of his works. He was also the 
accepted savant of the German people, the 
tutelary intellectual genius of his country. 
For many years it had been his business to 
expound German ideals and to give voice 
to racial ambitions. His history of Rome 
is not a mosaic of painfully deciphered 
facts, but a story of living men, a drama 
of the rise of one of the greatest of human 
peoples. Only a laborious scholar can know 
what a deep foundation of scholarship 
underlies the vivid narrative ; but the most 
prosaic of men can feel in the tale some- 
thing of an epic magnificence. Momm- 
sen carried the same vitality into his poli- 
tics. An enthusiastic Liberal from the first, 
and a strenuous opponent of Bismarck, he 
remained to the end a keen critic of policies 
and politicians. Whatever our verdict on 
his work, all must feel that a great figure 
has. departed from the world. 

He was a democrat, rejoicing in the 
strength of the people, and when he found 

L' Illustration 



The Buoklovers Magazine 

Photograph by Mrsny 

Courtesy of T.filir' s Monthly 


a man capable of leading the masses, ready 
to fall down and worship him. Hut the 
democracy must be a militant one. The 
ineffective philanthropist gets from him 
nothing but contempt. It is the strong 
man, the Caesar or Napoleon, who can 
discern the power of the " body-guard from 
the pavement," and use it to shatter effete 
institutions, who commands his admira- 
tion. He believes in and preaches the 
gospel of strcngtli, and the strong unjust 
man seems to him more w orth having than 

a century of the ineffectual good. Liberal 
though he calls himself, his sympathies are 
far more with Sulla than with the Cjtacchi, 
who discovered a truth which they had 
■ not the courage to develop logically; with 
Catiline and "those terrible energies, the 
wicked," than with Cicero and academic 

His conception of freedom, like that of 
most Individualists, was narrow and ab- 
stract; and he was prepared to submit to 
other bonds. He was nominally opposed 

Thh Booki.overs Magazine 


to the doctrine of Imperialism, but in prac- 
tice he was an enthusiast for the domina- 
tion of his own Feutonic race. The 
people are the only source of power and 
of political wisdom, so ran his c.-eed ; but 
they must be led, and their leader should 
tolerate no malcontents. The truth is 
that no Conservatism is so unshakable as 
a certain kind of Liberalism which pro- 
fesses a small number of Liberal dogmas, 
but is by temperament bureaucratic and 
absolutist. The net result of his teaching 
seems to us to have been the riveting of 
militarist and bureaucratic shackles upon 
his compatriots, and the encouragement 
of every grandiose racial ambition. Like 
the Republican Whigs of the eighteenth 
century, he showed how reaction can 
masquerade in the cap of liberty. — The 

"Charlie, the CrooK Chaiser" 

Years ago, when Charles J. Bonaparte 
told his fellow Baltimoreans that he 
thought free education as demoralizing as 
free food and drink, he was dubbed " Soup- 
house Charlie" in derision. Later, when 
he seized upon certain of them and pushed 
them into jail, they called him other and 
more picturesque names — this time in 
earnest. Now the sentences of most of 
them having expired, and Mr. Bonaparte 
having been elevated to the seats of the 
mighty, his popular or pet name has be- 
come " Charlie the Crook Chaser." The 
last of this series of printable and unprint- 
able titles is by far the best. It fits him 
as well as he fits the post of Corruption- 
ventilator -in -ordinary to the Roosevelt 

Beneath the forehead lurks the Bona- 
parte smile. It is there all the time — 
morning, noon, and night. It is there 
when its owner arises in court to pro- 
nounce a eulogy upon a dead judge, it is 
there when he lashes the "leaders" on 
the stump, and it is there when he is in a 
case and the witnesses on the other side 
begin to perspire coldly. This smile, 
though even its owner may not have 
known it, was one of the chief assets of 
the Baltimore Reform League in the year 
of grace 1895, when the ancient and 
odorous democracy of Maryland faced 
" Soup-house Charlie," and went tumbling 

into a heap of writhing grafters, scared 
"leaders," and twisted machinery. It is 
a smile of fascination and woful troubles — 
sweet, oily, insinuating, seductive, deceit- 
ful, sarcastic, sardonic, terrifying, paraly- 
zing, and diabolical. When the lesser 
law-breakers of the old machine faced it, 
it seemed fairly hellish. If Bonaparte had 
bawled at them and called them names, 
they would have understood him and 
opposed him. But with that grisly, 
ghastly smile upon his countenance he 
seemed the very embodiment of the powers 
of darkness. Many a Maryland politician 
who was never directly blasted by it sees 
it in his dreams; and one who has best 
cause thus to see it is the Honorable 
Arthur Pue Gorman, senator, statesman, 
and presidential possibility. Were Mr. 
Bonaparte to die tomorrow Mr. Gorman's 
chances of being President would be vastly 

Several times during its more strenuous 
years the members of the Reform League, 
or some of them, refused to sign reports 
because they regarded the charges made 
as libelous. Each time Mr. Bonaparte 
thereupon made the charges himself, over 
his signature, in a letter to the public. 

"If there are libel suits," he said, "I 
am responsible. Let them sue." 

But no writhing politician would ever 
sue Charles J. Bonaparte for libel. It 
would be too much like attempting to 
stop a dynamo with one's walking stick. 

The newspapers of Baltimore, knowing 
Mr. Bonaparte's absolute accuracy, print 
any charges he makes against public 
officials, secure in the knowledge that no 
damage suits will follow. He never accuses 
until he is certain, and then he doesn't 
spare his victim. Having a million or 
more in good securities, he would be an 
easy target for shyster lawyers were it not 
for the fact that no shyster lawyer would 
oppose him in court for any fee less than 
a billion. — John F. Brownell in Leslie's 

Domestic Strategy 

The younger man had been complaining 
that he could not get his wife to mend his 
clothes. "I asked her to sew a button 
on this vest last night, and she hasn't 


The BooKi.ovERS Magazine 

touched it," he said. At this the older 
man assumed the air of a patriarch. 

" Never ask a woman to mend any- 
thing," he said. 

"What would you have me do?" asked 
the other. 

"Simply do as I do," was the assured 
reply. "You haven't been married very 
long, and I think I can give you some 
serviceable suggestions. When I want a 
shirt mended 1 take it to my wife, flourish 
it round a little and say, ' Where's that 
rag-bag ? ' 

What do you want of the rag-bag ? ' 
asks my wife. Her suspicions are roused 
at once. 

"'1 want to throw this shirt away; 
it's worn out,' I say, with a few more 

Let me see that shirt,' my wife says 
then. 'Now, John, hand it to me at once.' 

" Of course I pass it over, and she exam- 
ines it. 'Why, John Taylor,' she is sure 
to say, I never knew such extravagance ! 
This is a perfectly good shirt. All it needs 

is ' And then she mends it." — New 

York Press. 

KocKefeller Keligion 

" The man who charges too much for 
groceries," says John D. Rockefeller, Jr., 
"will not succeed very long." Just what 
would be too much for oil he omitted to 
say. "A man may fool the people some- 
times," he continued, "but he can never 
fool Almighty God" — and he recommend- 
ed the Golden Rule, an amusing rule to 
bear in tnind when plunged in the history 
of Standard Oil. " The requireinents of 
a successful business career are really right 
in line with the requirements of a Christian 
life." Is this sacrilege, or is it jest? 
Probably young Mr. Rockefeller thinks it 
sober truth. He probably believes that 
Christianity has nothing to do with life. 
It is a doctrine comforting and consoling. 
" The personal comfort that religion has 
been to me," says John D., Senior, " has 
been such that sometimes 1 feel that I 
would like to go upon the lecture platform 
and tell the people about it." Tell them, 
for instance, how raising the price of oil, 
almost as he spoke, fits into his consola- 
tion. Tell them how his methods against 
competitors illustrate the Golden Rule. 

Tell them how becoming fabulously rich 
through illegal rebates is " in line with 
the requirements of a Christian life." 
Explain how natural is the accumulation 
of so much gold in a disciple of the 
Teacher who commanded us to give the 
very cloak from our backs to the needy. 
Talk about ways and means of making 
stocks go up and down and methods of 
influencing the minds of legislators. Ex- 
plain the superiority of Standard Oil vic- 
tories to those of old-time buccaneers. 
Is Mr. Rockefeller an ornament to true 
religion or is he a most enormous bur- 
lesque thereof ? It would seem to us 
more respectful to an Inspired Teacher and 
his religion of gentleness and love if the 
conductor of an enterprise, with a wake 
so full of wrecks and a power so ruthlessly 
used against the law, should leave Chris- 
tianity altogether out of the question and 
preach some acerbated version of the 
gospel according to Plutus. — Collier's. 

The Universal Target 

Speak kindly to the millionaire; 

Perhaps he does liis best. 
Don't try to drive him to despair 

With rude, unfeeling jest. 
Don't laugh at portraits wliich display 

His face with comic leer, 
And when he gives his wealth away 

Don't take it with a sneer. 

Speak kindly to the millionaire. 

He has a right to live 
And feel the sun and breathe the air 

And keep his coin or give. 
You may be rich yourself, you see. 

Before your life is through ; 
Speak kindly, and remember he 

Is human, just like you. 

— trashington Star. 

How Chopin Wrote His 
" Funeral March " 

It was on one of my art pilgrimages that 
I met Chopin first. The common friend 
who introduced us to each other was the 
Count Xavier de Maistre. 

It was not in my present studio that his 
wonderful " Funeral March " was com- 
posed. I was then (about 1840 I think 
it was) established in another, a more 
Bohemian workshop, if possible, than this 
one. As I used it for the threefold pur- 
pose of painting, eating, and sleeping in, 
I had divided it into three compartments 

The Booklovers Magazine 


by means of tapestry hangings descending 
from roof to fioor. The middle compart- 
ment was more properly my studio. In it 
were all my artist paraphernalia, including 
a human skeleton, which I used for draping 
in various attitudes. Of the furniture 
there were two articles that helped to 
constitute the scene 1 am about to relate 
— the one a large divan standing against 
the tapestry of my sleeping compartment ; 
the other a piano, which 1 had bought 
ctieap from a second-hand dealer and from 
which I had sawn out the panels in order 
to paint pictures on them. 

It happened that on the day which has 
since become historic I had invited a friend 

or two to dine with me. After the meal 
some other friends had joined us in the 
studio. 1 may mention Chevandier de 
Valdrome, Ludre, de Polignac (the musi- 
cian) , Chopin, and Ricard (who had painted 
my portrait). We were a gay party and 
prolonged our causerie into the small 
hours of the morning. It must have been 
about two o'clock, I think, when, being 
for a moment alone with Ricard in the 
middle compartment — the others were in 
the sleeping room beyond the divan — I 
seized the skeleton on the suggestion of 
some mad fancy passing through my head, 
and shrouding it in the piano cover, which 
Ricard obligingly whipped ofif for me, I 


Bart in Minneapolis jQurnal 


The Booklovers Magazine 

raised the tapestry and made it jig before 
our friends on the further side. 

Atfirst they saw only the comic side of the 
situation. Their previous merriment grew 
loudtT and reached its maximum when de 
Polignac stalketl forward, took the skele- 
ton from me, insinuated himself beneath 
the shroud, and, sitting down at the piano, 
made the bony fingers of the puppet play. 
It was a weird spectacle. All of us were 
fascinated by the grim humor of this skele- 
ton man performing on what, with some 
truth, might be called a skeleton instru- 
ment, its naked hammers looking like so 
many teeth moving within a skull. We 
began to afifect or to feel a sort of fright, 
for vvhich rhythmic taps on the divan, 

secretly administered by one of the com- 
pany, were partly responsible. There 
were repeated Oh ! ohs ! one, at last, 
more energetic than the rest, proceeding 
from Chopin. We looked at him. Aloved 
by a sudden inspiration, he advanced to- 
ward de Polignac, seized the skeleton in 
his turn, and, displacing the performer, 
himself sat down on the stool. The first 
chords that he struck were with the skele- 
ton on his knees, but, warming to his 
theme, he let it clatter to the ground. 
A deep silence fell on us. It was the 
" Funeral March " he was playing. 
There is no need for me to enlarge on 
the applause that greeted Chopin at its 
conclusion. W^e knew and he knew that 



The Potiiicil Adverttitr 


The Booklovers Magazine 


he had composed a masterpiece. Before 
going to bed he spent four hours in put- 
ting on to paper his new creation. It is 
possible he may have added to his improvi- 
sation some chords, some few bars even 
that rendered it more complete. But he 
changed none of its essential features. 
The music we heard on that memorable 
night was substantially what is contained 
in the written notes of to-day. — Felix Ziem 
in The Independent. 

An Impromptu Prayer 

Now I lay me down to sleep — 
Don't want to sleep; I want to think. 
I didn't mean to spill that ink : 

I only meant to softly creep 
Under the desk an' be a bear — 
'T ain't 'bout the spanking that I care. 

'F she'd only let me 'spiain an' tell 
Just how it was an accident, 
An' that I never truly meant, 

An' never saw it till it fell. 
I feel a whole lot worse'n her; 
I'm sorry, an' I said I were. 

I s'pose if I'd just cried a lot 
An' choked all up like sister does, 
An' acted sadder than I wuz, 

An' sobbed about the "naughty spot," 
She'd said, " He sha'n't be whipped, he sha'n't," 
An' kissed me — but, somehow, I can't. 

But I don't think it's fair a bit 
That when she talks an' talks at you, 
An' you wait patient till she's through. 

An' start to tell your side of it, 
She says, " Now that'll do, my son ; 
I've heard enough," 'fore you've begun. 

'F I should die before I wake — 
Maybe I ain't got any soul ; 
Maybe there's only just a hole 

Where't ought to be — there's such an ache 
Down there somewhere! She seemed to think 
That I just loved to spill that ink. 

— Ethel M. Kelley in The Century. 

The Business End of a 
Spiritual Monarchy 

The business department of the Vatican 
— by which terin is comprehended the 
immense yet delicate machinery of the 
Roman Catholic Church — is probably 
the least known and yet the most interest- 
ing bit of mechanism connected with that 
notable organization, than which, Lord 
Macaulay declared, none was more worthy 
of serious examination. 

The receipts and the expenditures of 
the Vatican, like those of our own Gov- 
ernment at Washington, vary from year to 

year, so that it is impossible to give precise 
figures. It is estimated, however, upon 
good authority, that during the last years 
of the life of Leo XIII the annual receipts 
and expenditures amounted to about 
$1,500,000. One estimate of the division 
of this sum places $100,000 for the sup- 
port of Cardinals and diplomatic missions 
abroad, $500,000 for the maintenance of 
the Vatican and its library and museums, 
which, of course, includes the Vatican 
household expenses; $400,000 for the 
Pontifical alms and the subsidies to the 
schools of Rome; $300,000 to gifts and 
charities ; and $200,000 for miscellaneous 

The revenues of the Church come from 
two sources, one known as the "Patri- 
mony of Peter" and the other called 
" Peter's Pence." The Patrimony of 
Peter represents the invested capital of the 
Church. It is the interest on funds in- 
vested by former pontiffs, rents from build- 
ings owned by the Church, fees for various 
services performed and documents that are 
issued in the course of every-day ecclesias- 
tical business. Since the bulk of its prop- 
erty was seized by the Italian government, 
the Church realizes very little from its 
real estate holdings in the Eternal City. 
Peter's Pence is probably more important 
than the fixed revenues of the Vatican, 
for it represents the voluntary and often 
spontaneous offerings of the faithful. 

The Pope has no personal salary. There 
is a reason : being a spiritual sovereign he 
cannot be a subject of or subject to any 
person on earth. This one thought con- 
tains, in a nutshell, the whole theory and 
contention of the Church as to the tem- 
poral power of the Pope. He not only 
protests against the confiscation of church 
property, but he declines to be an Italian 
subject, and is thus a self-immured prisoner 
in the Vatican. The Popes have followed 
Pius IX in steadfastly declining to receive 
the inoney voted for the maintenance of 
the Holy See by the Italian government. 
It is a grant of about 3,000,000 francs a 
year, and, as it has been refused for thirty- 
three years, the total is now about $20,- 
000,000 with interest. No tax is imposed 
on the Church for the support of the 
Pope. In this the Pope dififers from every 
other minister of the Church. Rectors 
and curates receive specified salaries. The 


The Booklovers Magazine 

bishops are supported by the pastors. Every 
parish sets aside a pro rata sum, known as 
" Cathedraticum," for the bishop. Cardi- 
nals are paid a salary of per annum, 
exactly the amount paid by our Govern- 
ment to each member of the United States 
Senate. Nuncios, legates, and delegates 
are paid prescribed salaries. — George Barton 
i.i The 'Book- Keeper. 

" The People's Joe " 

There has rarely been in English politics 
a personality whom it is so difficult to read 
as Mr. Chamberlain. It is not that he 
appears to his admirers and to his adver- 
saries to be two dififerent people, for that 
has repeatedly occurred. As demagogue 
we rather respect Mr. Chamberlain, for he 
belongs to an unusual variety — the men 
who are not courting Demos, but intent 
on persuading Demos to court them. 



This is by far the nobler form, and leaves 
us at least the chance that a man of 
genius may possess himself of the springs 
of authority. He is the Minister of a Sov- 
ereign more or less stupid, not his courtier. 
In this capacity our only reproach for him 
is that, like most ministers of absolute 
sovereigns, he hides many truths from his 
master, and grows by degrees too reckless 
in his methods of persuasion. It is as poli- 
tician that we are inclined to underrate Mr. 
Chamberlain. He seems to us to have a 
kind of half-capacity for largeness of view. 
He is, for example, undoubtedly an Ihipe- 
rialist, but he thinks only of half the 
Empire. He remembers always the twelve 
millions of white Colonists, whom he wishes 
to bind more strongly to the central power, 
and who, we fully admit, are by far the 
more important portion, but forgets the 
hundreds of millions who are already 
bound. He openly treats the tropical Col- 
onies as "great estates" to be 
worked for the trader's profit, and 
throughout his recent speeches 
has never once mentioned the 
eflfect of his policy upon the most 
magnificent and the most produc- 
tive of our possessions. For him 
India might not exist. The white 
Colonies, indeed, he loves and 
solicits, but his notion of love- 
making is to of^er bribes. Mr. 
Chainberlain's strength and feeble- 
nesses are those of the people he 
addresses. He is as combative as 
they are, as insular as they arc, 
and like them he usually confounds 
foresight with apprehension. To 
him, as to them, the foreigner is 
anathema — a man to be defeated 
not only when he attacks, but 
when he outstrips. Add that 
Mr. Chamberlain, though not a 
great orator, is one of the greatest 
of public speakers at a time when 
great public speakers are wonder- 
fully few, that he has marvelous 
courage in a period when all his 
rivals are ' sicklied o'er with the 
pale cast of thought," and that 
he speaks in the English under- 
standed of the people, and we 
shall comprehend the potence of 
his personality. There will yet re- 
main this — that Mr. Chamberlain 







Thh BooKi.ovhRS Magazine 

is a man who dare lead, and that democracy 
would rather be led over the precipice than 
left without leadership at all. That is the 
truth which more aristocratic statesmen 
never can be induced to learn. They can 
quite understand, and often really expect, 
an " uj^ly rush" against a king, a ministry, 
or an institution; but the readiness with 
which the multitude forms rank behind 
the captain who says "Let us charge!" is 
still hidden from their eyes. Mr. Cham- 
berlain is ready to lead — as we think, 
in a dangerous direction — and because he 
will lead, a great section of the commu- 
nity is willing at once to follow. — London 

Wonderland Figures 

" But your figures are all wrong," said 
Alice rather contemptuously. 

rhe Mad Hatter glared at her indig- 
nantly. " I only use figures as illustra- 
tions," he remarked. "I do not pretend 
that they are proofs; the proof will be 
found in the argument and not in the fig- 
ures. I use figures as illustrations to show 
what the argument is." 

" But," said Alice, " if your figures are 
wrong your argument must be wrong too." 

The Mad Hatter glared more than ever. 

My figures are the outcome of my emo- 
tions," he exclaimed with a tragic air. 

(jo awav, Jam and Pickles!" 

"Why do you call me Jam and Pickles?" 
asked Alice. 

" Because you're not sugar," replied the 
Mad Hatter loftily. " You're not worth 
considering?" — Through the Looking Glass 
(New Version). 

[ ' In this controversy which I am com- 
mencing here 1 use figures as illustrations. 
I do not pretend that they are proofs ; the 
proof will be found in the argument and 
not in the figures ; 1 use figures as illustra- 
tions to show what the argument is. . . . 
Sugar has gone — let us not weep for it ; 
jam and pickles remain." — Mr. Chamber- 
lain, at Greenock, October 7, 1903.] — 
IVestminster Gazette. 

A Big Thing in Cities 

At the beginning of 1904 a continuous 
line of trolley-cars will connect the cities 
of the seaboard for five hundred miles. 
With every day's growth of facilities for 
transportation, the ties between Boston, 



/■. 0'. Ciuutil in Thf II' eMminittr Gaxelte 


Philadelphia, Baltimore, and N 
become more complete. 

A thousand causes have tended to centre 
population around New York harbor, pro- 
ducing the phenomenal growth of New 
York City; this notwithstanding the many 
drawbacks of past and present. Gne chief 
cause of change will be cheap automobile 
transportation by public veliicles, relieving 
the congestion of the centres and carry 
ing the population off into rural 
districts. There, one, two, or 
more acres will give the family all 
the health and pleasures of country 
life, and the economies which re- 
sult from the high cultivation of 
small pieces of lantl for household 

It is therefore not too much to 
suppose that, judging from the 
growth in country districts in the 
last ten years, in spite of compara- 
tively poor transit facilities, we 
shall have in 1909 a continuous 
city along the Atlantic seaboard, 
five hundred miles in length — 
even to Washington. 

Undoubtedly, by natural advan- 
tage and impetus. New York will 
eventually hoKl the social and 
business heart of a city containing 
fifty thousand square miles and 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Cofyrifhi, /gOS, by I.ife Publishing Co. Courtesy of Life 


twenty million inhabitants, stretching from 
beyond Boston five hundred miles along 
the Atlantic seaboard to Baltimore and 
Washington and running back one hun- 
dred miles into beautiful mountain ranges. 
Fifty thousand square miles brought within 
the reach of a great city means thirty-two 
million acres — that is, more than one acre 
and a half for each man, woman, and child 
of twenty millions of population. The 
meaning of rapid transit for future genera- 
tions is acres, instead of rooms in tene- 
ments. — John Brisben Walker in The 

The American as a SportsiT\an 

Most Americans are thorough news- 
paper sportsmen. Now in England and 
her colonies they take their exercise more 
seriously than we do, and the majority of 
Englishmen even carry their interest so far 
as the greensward, and fight out their ath- 
letic contests under the blue sky. Pretty 
nearly every Briton, from the mill-hand to 
the peer of the realm, can handle a cricket 
bat, and he seldom lets his muscles get 
stiff from the lack of practice at his 
national sport. Of course some of us 

Americans play cricket and golf and tennis 
and football, but the number is small. 
The average American citizen after he 
leaves school or college has not the time 
for real sport. For the most part he con- 
fines himself to the tabloid forms of exer- 
cise. Every morning he devotes all of five 
minutes to a violent, health-dealing "sys- 
tem" in his own room, and satisfies any 
extra sporting blood he may have by read- 
ing the sporting page of his morning paper, 
and he does this while hanging on to a 
strap on his way down town to business 
in an elevated railroad or trolley car. 

But when the American takes up busi- 
ness he usually puts his sport aside as an 
evil thing, and tries to reach his place of 
business before the office boy has had time 
to sweep out. He generally remains to 
see that the office shutters are well barred 
for the night. He learns to regard a 
national holiday as a public nuisance, and 
it is only since the Saturday early-closing 
laws have been introduced that he has 
been forced to recognize the delights of 
Saturday golf. And so, while we find the 
Briton, either at home or in his many 
possessions all over the world, combining 
his work with a healthy dash of active 


Thh Booklovhrs Magazine 

W "^'^-.S^s 

c .^>,r^ 

M' Mr «s 





sport, the average American goes on about 
his "business, reads his sporting page, and 
at great intervals pays to see some one 
exercise for him. 

You cannot wholly eradicate an Amer- 
ican's love for a three-bagger, and baseball 
and the races are about the only two things 
which will cause hrm to close up his roller- 
top desk before the sunset gun. Through 
his sporting page he follows the home 
team all over the circuit, and when he of its return to the local grounds, 
and if its average is not too hopeless, his 
sluggish sporting blood will begin t ) flow 
a;j;ain, anil he yearns for the sharp crack 
of the bat as it lines out a boundary hit. 
And so he hangs up his black alpaca coat, 
and, having given his secretary permission 
to sign his dictateil letters, he takes the car 
marked "To the Ball Gan-ie," and for the 
nonce is a boy again. He sits on a hard 
bt'iich or an equally hard cushion, and, if 
the weather gives him any excuse at all, 
he takes off his coat and unbuttons his 
collar, borrows a light for his cigar from 
his neighbor, and then "roots" for the 
home team. And when it is all over, and 
he has prayed and sworn and howled with 
the best of them, he goes home very 
happy, and wonders why he does not more 
often s|>i-nd an afterno<Mi in the ofien air 

and see the game as it really is, instead of 
getting it second-hand from his sporting 
extra. — Charles Belmont "Davis in Outing. 

A Great Aixierican Colonial 

Governor Taft leaves the Philippine 
Islands with the insular government not 
only self-supporting, but even lending 
money to provinces and municipalities. 
Under the Spanish rule the rich man 
imported champagne Iree of duty and the 
poor man paid a prohibitive duty on kero- 
sene and wheat flour. Under the new 
insular government the tarif? has been 
removed from necessities and increased on 
luxuries. The revenue, instead of decreas- 
ing, has shown an increase. Out of the 
surplus a coast-guard service has been estab- 
lished, which not only affords protection 
but also establishes quick communication 
between the islands. This coast-guard 
fleet includes twenty vessels, each 140 feet 
in length, manned by Filipino crews and 
American engineers. These boats carry 
mails and enforce the custom laws. This 
service was installed at a cost of Si ,000,000, 
which was a surplus out of the revenues 
of the islands. 

If Governor Taft's offer to purchase the 
friars' lands fs accepted, it will record his 
greatest achievement as governor. When 
he assumed the reins of government, the 
question of the friars' lands was the burn- 
ing question in the islands. Governor Taft 
determined on a business course. He had 
the land surveyed and a fa'r valuation 
(approximately S5, 000,000) piaceil on it. 
He then heard both sides. He questioned 
the friars frankly about the charges of 
immorality that had been made against 
them ; he questioned the people who hated 
the fri^irs for acquiring the best laml. It 
is Governor laft's plan to buy the land 
and give first chance for ownership to the 
pr.'S-'nt tenants. His visit to Pope Leo 
was an evidence of his desire to act in 
harmony with the Church. 

As presitlent of the first Philippine 
Commission Judge Taft drafted the Civil 
Service act, and as governor he witnessed 
its successful operation. He required effi- 
ciency as the first qualification, and no 
ilrones were allowed. Heads of depart- 
ments reported to him directly instead of 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Copyright, iQnj. by "DouhUday, Pege, if Co. 


Courtfsy "f Ifor'.d' s H'uik 

to the head of the bureau. He encour- 
aged the appointment of natives to offices 
of trust. 

Governor Taft found an oppressive tax 
system. The poor man vv^as paying a tax 
on his plow, which was a necessity, and 
the rich man who owned hundreds of 
acres paid no land tax. A land tax is now 
assessed and yields a large revenue. 

The success of the constabulary, an 
armed native force of 6,000, has been a 
vindication of Governor Taft's confidence 
in the Filipinos. The desertions from the 
constabulary are fewer in proportion than 
those from the army now in the islands. 
Governor Taft has given his active co- 
operation to public education. Early in 
his life on the islands he saw that the 
natives were united on two things: a de- 
testation of the friars, and a desire for edu- 
cation. During his administration i,000 
teachers were brought over from the United 

States to teach English. Primary schools 
have been established in every province. 
1 here are numerous provincial secondary 
high schools, while at Manila there is an 
excellent normal school. One hundred 
Filipinos will be sent to the United States 
to get technical and university educations. 
Governor Taft's administration has wit- 
nessed the introduction of a sound cur- 
rency, the improvement of harbors, the 
establishment - of cable service, and the 
taking of a census which cost $1,000,000. 
— The World's Work. 

130 Miles an Hour! 

The attainment of the speed of 130 
miles an hour on the high-speed electric 
road from Berlin to Zossen, which has 
been duly chronicled in these column^, 
has probably caused many of our readers 
to wonder just how the men in the cab 


The Booklovers Magazine 

felt when they saw poles and trees flying 
past. It happens that Dr. Reichel, one of 
the engineers who was in the car at the 
time it maile its historical run, published 
in a Herlin weekly a very good account of 
the experience of those who conducted 
the experiments. We translate the more 
striking portions : 

All preparations have been made; a 
brake test has been carried out ; the engi- 
neers have climbed into the car; and the 
military posts along the road have been 
informed that the car is soon to start. 
The motorman turns the controller very 
slowly through a few degrees. Fourteen 
thousand volts shoot from the lines to the 

With a whirr the car starts on its mem- 
orable journey from Marienfelde. The 
overhead wires are swaying in a strong 
wind. A mile and a quarter has been 
covered. The speed indicator shows a 
velocity of seventy-five miles an hour. 

Each second the speed increases. Just 
before the station of Mahlow appears a 
curve of 6,560 feet radius looms up. The 
speed is now 109 miles an hour. We seem 
to be leaping toward the curve. No bend 
can be seen ; the track apparently ends 
abruptly. We know there is a curve, and 
yet we are anxious; we brace ourselves for 
a shock. Just as we reach the curve the 
track seems to bend into a gentle arc into 
which the car runs easily. 

We climb a grade of twenty-six feet to 
the mile — slight, to be sure, and yet to 
ascend it at full speed we must expend 
300 horse power more. The train is fly- 
ing on faster and faster. We rush through 
Mahlow at a speed of 115 miles an hour. 
No vibration or shock is felt. It seems as 
if the car itself were not moving — as if 
buildings, poles, trees were flickering past. 
Only the humming of the wheels assures 
us that is we who are moving. 

The finger of the speed indicator slips 
along to a mark which shows that the car 
is making 121 miles an hour. At every 
crossing a loud ringing note can be heard, 
caused by the wheels. Fragments of bal- 
last as large as walnuts are sucked up into 
the air and fall back as the train rushes on. 
At first the speed is bewildering, almost 

We in the cab are much nearer the 
track than is the engineer of a steam loco- 

motive. On that account it seems at first 
as if the car is literally devouring the road 
by the mile. Gradually we become accus- 
tomed to the new sensation. The feeling 
of safety and comfort which overcomes 
the first shock of amazement gives rise to 
the desire to travel faster. 

After the i20-mile-an-hour mark has 
been passed the excitement in the car 
becomes intense. Not a word is spoken. 
Only the click of the wheels over the 
rails is heard. Every eye that is not fas- 
tened on the speed indicator is glued on 
the track. 

Suddenly, at a distance of about half a 
mile, we see two men unconcernedly 
standing in the middle of the road calmly 
awaiting the car. The motorman jumps 
for the whistle string. As the danger sig- 
nal shrieks, the two men on the track turn 
about with a frightened look and then flee 
for their lives. No power on earth can 
stop this 93-ton car within a mile. 

Suddenly a smashing blow is heard 
against the window of the cab, as if a man 
brought his fist heavily down upon a table. 
It was a bird, overtaken in its flight and 
killed. The speed indicator finger climbs 
up past the 124-mile mark. 

A quarter of a mile before reaching the 
curve near Rangsdorf we shut off the cur- 
rent and apply the full power of the brakes. 
The speed of the car drops to 102 miles. 
The curve is rounded in a noble swing. 
The brake is released, and the car glides 
along under its own momentum without 
any current whatever until Zossen is 
reached. In eight minutes wc have leaped 
from Marienfelde to Zossen. 

We crowd around the telegraph instru- 
ments, which have recorded a speed never 
before attainetl in the annals of railroading. 
The telegrapher can hardly attend to his 
instruments, so many heails are pressing 
about him. Finally he succeeds in reading 
off the record — 130.4 miles an hour. 

Every one smiles; hands are shaken, 
congratulations exchanged. An officer 
rushes off to the telegraph station to 
announce to His Majesty the Kaiser the 
feat which Cjerman engineers have suc- 
ceeded in performing. 

The front end of the car is covered with 
flies, bees, ami small insects, crushed as if 
by a thumb against the iron and glass. — 
Srieni'ijic American. 






VOL 111 NO 2 







The Booklovers Magazine 


Managing Editor 


Business Manager 


Advertising Manager 

MARK TWAI^^^de in America 

The virgin soil of America has produced 
in the last century a rich harvest of humor. 
The first fruits of this harvest appeared 
even in Colonial times, when the genial 
warmth of the Quaker City's atmosphere 
dissolved the ice of Puritanism around the 
heart of Franklin and interfused his inborn 
Yankee shrewdness with the kindly charity 
of his adopted home. The wars and dis- 
sensions of the Revolutionary era stayed 
its growth, but with the opening of the 
nineteenth century it broke forth again in 
the delightful creations of Washington 
Irving, whose masterpieces of humor, 
Knickerbocker's History, Rip Van fVinkle, 
and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, in spite 
of their disguise of eighteenth-century 
English diction, are racy with the true 
flavor of the soil from which they sprang. 
And from Irving's day to our own this har- 
vest, increasing alike in quantity, variety, 
and spontaneous charm, has been one of 
the staple products of our civilization. It 
has not been confined to any section of 
the country nor to any stratum of our vary- 
ing levels of culture. The mining camp of 
the Rockies has borne fruit as well as the 
plantation of tidewater Virginia, the "poor 
white" Mississippi river-town as well as 
the academic center of New England. 

We are not, it must be frankly con- 
fessed, a witty nation ; in American litera- 
ture the "wit" is a phenomenon, infre- 
quent, and, as a rule, unappreciated. Wit, 
I fancy, is a plant that requires an older 


soil and more deliberate culture 
than American life can often afiford. But 
humor, that kindly, democratic, half skep- 
tical, half sentimental, attitude of mind 
toward the universe at large, is indigenous. 
Every good American is a humorist at 
heart ; and humor in all its forms, from 
screaming farce to genial character-crea- 
tion, finds in America what is accorded to 
no other form of literature or art, a general, 
intelligent, and sympathetic appreciation. 

Of all our humorists, alive or dead, 
Mark Twain is the most widely popular and 
the most typically American. It is not too 
much, I think, to say that he is the most 
popular because he is the most typically 
American. This underlying source of 
his popularity has, however, been more 
generally realized abroad than at home, 
where the fastidious niceness of the 
professional critic has too often been 
unable to perceive in the creations of 
our greatest humorist anything more than 
the contortions of the professional buffoon. 
It was but a few years ago, for example, 
that a solemn critic in our most decorous 
periodical refused him admission to the 
sacred circle presided over by the Autocrat 
of the Breakfast Table, and declared that 
a circus-clown was as likely to attract the 
attention of the dramatic critic as Mark 
Twain that of the serious reviewer. And 
this a quarter of a century after the intel- 
ligent and sympathetic criticism of the 
Revue des Deux Mondes had introduced 
the author of the Jumping Frog and the 
Innocents Abroad to the delighted audience 
of Europe I 

The autobiographic element in the work 


The Booklovers Magazine 

of Mark Twain has often been pointed 
out, but it is not perhaps generally reahzed 
that the interest of his books varies 
directly in proportion to the presence 
of this personal element. Where his 
work, to be successful, demands the 
exercise of the historic imagination, he 
fails lamentably, as in the luckless Yankee 
at King Arthur's Court. He is at his 
best when he is recording his own expe- 
riences; and in his happiest vein when he 
is transfusing them into a work of art, as 
in his crowning achievements of Tom 
Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. And this 
is because his life itself has been typically — 
one might almost say, uniquely — American. 
Mark Twain, or to give him for once 
his true but almost forgotten name, Sam- 
uel Langhorne Clemens, spent the first 
years of his life in the little village of Han- 
nibal, Missouri, " a loafing, out-at-elbows, 
down-at-the-heels, slave-holding Mississippi 
river-town." He appears to have been a 
boy very like his own Tom Sawyer, good- 
natured, mischievous, a truant, and a mar- 
velous story-teller. He got little or no 
education in the village school, was ap- 
prenticed to a printer at twelve years of 
age, ran away from home, and followed 
his trade from town to town as far east as 
Philadelphia. He drifted back to the great 
river, planning a voyage of discovery to 
Brazil — a project which he soon renounced 
to take up the profitable craft of piloting. 
At the outbreak of the Civil War he aban- 
doned piloting and enlisted in the Confed- 
erate army. He spent some three months 
in camp, was captured, escaped, and filed 
to the Far West as the private secretary 
of an older brother, who had just been 
appointed " to an office of such majesty 
that it concentrated in itself the duties 
and dignities of Treasurer, Comptroller, 
Secretary of State and Acting Governor" 
of the new Territory of Nevada. He soon 
caught the prevalent silver fever, discov- 
ered a fabulously rich mine or two from 
which, however, hcsecured nothing, except 
experience, and finally turned to jour- 
nalism. He had the good fortune to serve 
his apprenticeship under two disciples of 

Dana of the New York Sun, and managed 
in the course of his connection with his 
first paper to involve his superior in half a 
dozen duels by an over-free indulgence in 
humorous personalities. He accumulated 
a handsome fortune — on paper — only to 
see it crumble to nothing when the min- 
ing bubble burst. He became a reporter 
on a San Francisco paper, sailed to the 
Sandwich Islands as special correspondent, 
and made his debut as humorous lecturer 
on the Californian platform. He returned 
to the East, discovered Europe and Pales- 
tine in the company of the immortal Inno- 
cents of the Quaker City excursion, and 
leaped into fame by his naive record of this 
new Pilgrim's Progress. Since 1868 his 
life has been that of a man of letters. He 
has contributed countless articles, grave 
and gay, to our magazines; has some two 
dozen books to his credit; and has amused 
his leisure time by inventing articles of 
every description from a scrap-book to a 
buttonless shirt, by embarking in a pub- 
lishing enterprise which failed for a colossal 
sum, and by paying of? the debts in which 
this failure involved him, in a manner 
worthy of Sir Walter Scott. He is at 
present, it is not too much to say, the best 
known, the most widely read, and the best 
loved of American authors. A strangely 
varied life, and one which could not have 
been lived in any other country or any 
other age than our own. 

Mr. Clemens' first printed article was, 
it appears, a fantastic burlesque of the 
paragraphs on river news contributed to 
the New Orleans Picayune by a patriarch 
of tlie piloting craft, over the signature of 
" Mark Twain." The parody so dis- 
gusted the old pilot that he entirely ceased 
to contribute to the press, and some years 
afterward departed this earthly life. "At 
the time the telegraph brought the news 
of his death," says Mr. Clemens, "I was 
a fresh, new journalist on the Pacific coast, 
and needed a wo/// //<? ^//cr/f / so I confis- 
cated the ancient mariner's discarded one, 
and have done my best to make it remain 
what it was in his hands — a sign and sym- 
bol and warrant tlmt whatever is found in 

The Booklovers Magazine 


its company may be gambled on as being 
the petrified truth. How I've succeeded, 
it would not be modest in me to say." 

It was over this signature that a number 
of humorous sketches appeared in the Cah- 
fornia journals during the middle sixties, 
one of which soon travelled eastward and 
attracted considerable attention. This 
was the famous 'Jumping Frog, the best 
known, perhaps, of all Twain's shorter 
stories. It is a very admirable example of 
what he himself has defined as the Amer- 
ican humorous story, which depends for 
its efJect not upon its matter, but entirely 
upon the manner in which it is told. The 
fun of the story consists by no means in 
the climax, but far more in the wholly 
serious fashion in which the author — copy- 
ing, he declares, the old miner from whom 
he first heard the tale — narrates the absurd 
history of Jim Smiley, with his passion for 
betting, his rat terriers, his fighting cocks, 
his buUdog, "Andrew Jackson," and his 
trained frog, "Daniel Webster." And this 
fashion of blending false and true, this 
sober narration of preposterous nonsense, 
has been from Franklin's time, as Professor 
Wendell has well pointed out, one of the 
distinguishing characteristics of American 

Mark Twain's first book, apart from a 
collection of his early sketches, was the 
Innocents Abroad, and the immense success 
of this work, one hundred and twenty-five 
thousand copies of which were sold within 
the first three years of its publication, 
established his reputation as a " funny 
man," a reputation which he has to this 
day found it very hard to live down. 
Innocents Abroad is not a great book; it is 
not one of those on which the author's 
fame will ultimately rest, but it is a very 
typical piece of work. Its fun depends 
upon its frank simplicity, its unflagging 
animal spirits, and its ludicrous contrast of 
civilizations. "There are a good many 
things about this Italy which I do not 
understand," the twenty-fifth chapter 
begins; and with a slight alteration — Old 
World for Italy — the words might serve as 
a motto for the whole book. No doubt if 

the author had understood more he would 
have laughed less, but the gaiety of nations 
would have been proportionately dimin- 
ished. The excursion itself was the pro- 
totype of the thousand-and-one personally 
conducted parties which have since then 
started out to discover the Old World. 
Who that has encountered one of these 
queer collections, rushing through their 
predetermined round of sight-seeing, can 
fail to recognize the truth of the picture 
that the humorist drew? 

" None of us had ever been anywhere 
before; we all hailed from the interior; 
travel was a wild novelty to us, and we 
conducted ourselves in accordance with 
the natural instincts that were in us, and 
trammeled ourselves with no ceremonies, 
no conventionalities. We always took 
care to make it understood that we were 
Americans — Americans! When we found 
that a good many foreigners had hardly 
ever heard of America, and that a good 
many more knew it only as a barbarous 
province away off somewhere, that had 
lately been at war with somebody, we 
pitied the ignorance of the Old World, 
but abated no jot of our importance. 
Many and many a simple community in 
the Eastern hemisphere will remember for 
years the incursion of the strange horde in 
the year of our Lord 1867, that called 
themselves Americans, and seemed to 
imagine in some unaccountable way that 
they had a right to be proud of it. . . . 
We had cared nothing much about 
Europe. We galloped through the Louvre, 
the Pitti, the Uffizi, the Vatican — 
all the galleries — and through the pictured 
and frescoed churches of Venice, Naples 
and the cathedrals of Spain; some of us 
said that certain of the great works of the 
old masters were glorious creations of 
genius (we found it out in the guide-book, 
though we got hold of the wrong picture 
sometimes) and others said they were dis- 
graceful old daubs. We examined modern 
and ancient statuary with a critical eye in 
Florence, Rome, or anywhere we found it, 
and praised it if we saw fit, and if we 
didn't we said we preferred the wooden 


The Bookloveks Magazine 

Indians in front of the cigar stores of 

So long as the fruitful soil of our coun- 
try continues to produce in bewildering 
multiplicity the counterparts of these 
travellers, the Innocents Abroad will remain 
a perennial fountain of laughter. 

Some dozen years later, in l88o, Mr. 
Clemens published his second book of 
travel, A Tramp Abroad. This is, as 
might be expected, a somewhat riper book 
than the Innocents, and perhaps on that 
account it is hardly so amusing. It lacks 
something of the first, fine, careless rapture 
of the earlier work. And yet it is full of 
fun. One could spare, perhaps, the paro- 
dies of German legends and the prolonged 
farce of the ascent of the Rififelberg, but 
not the unforgetable sketches of Amer- 
icans abroad. The embryo horse-doctor 
of Heidelberg, the innocent chatterbox of 
Lucerne, and "somebody's grandson," are 
types struck of? with relentless accuracy, 
and yet with such sympathetic humor as 
to take all the sting out of the satire. No 
less delightful are the reminiscences of 
America — Jim Baker's story of the blue 
jay and the hole in the cabin, and Riley's 
tale of the man who put up at Gadsby's. 
Indeed, if it were not for one of the 
appendices, the opinion might almost be 
ventured that the best things in the Tramp 
Abroad were the tramp's meetings with 
his countrymen and his memories of his 
country. But this appendix contains the 
account of Mark Twain's epic combat 
with the " awful German language," and 
from its modest beginning, with the delu- 
sive scriptural quotation, to its triumphant 
close in the Fourth of July Oration in the 
German tongue, this extravaganza is a 
masterpiece. It is based, of course, 
upon a total ignorance of the laws of 
speech, and proceeds upon the absurd as- 
sumption that a language has been made, 
and therefore can be unmade, by the con- 
scious volition of man. And yet the wild 
farce never wholly loses touch with reality. 
How true, for itistance, the following de- 
scription of the average style of a (icrman 
newspaper is, only those can know who 

have lost time and temper in struggling 
to extract information from these ponder- 
ous and polysyllabic sheets : 

"An average sentence, in a German 
newspaper, is a sublime and impressive 
curiosity; it occupies a quarter of a col- 
umn ; it contains all the ten parts of 
speech — not in regular order, but mixed ; 
it is built mainly of compound words con- 
structed by the writer on the spot, and not 
to be found in any dictionary — six or seven 
words compacted into one, without joint 
or seam — that is, without hyphens; it 
treats of fourteen or fifteen different sub- 
jects, each enclosed in a parenthesis of 
its own, with here and there extra paren- 
theses which re-enclose three or four of 
the minor parentheses, making pens within 
pens ; finally all the parentheses and re- 
parentheses are massed together between a 
couple of king parentheses, one of which 
is placed in the first line of the majestic 
sentence and the other in the middle of 
the last line of it — after which comes the 
V^ERB, and you find out for the first time 
what the man has been talking about ; 
and after the verb — merely by way of orna- 
ment, as far as I can make out — the writer 
shovels in haben sind gewesen gehabt haben 
geworden sein, or words to that effect, and 
the monument is finished. I suppose that 
this closing hurrah is in the nature of the 
flourish to a man's signature — not neces- 
sary, but pretty. German books are easy 
to read when you hold them before the 
looking-glass or stand on your head — so as 
to reverse the construction — but I think 
that to learn to read and understand a 
German newspaper is a thing which must 
always remain an impossibility to a 

Roughing It, Mark Twain's first book 
of American life, appeared some eight 
years before A Tramp Abroad. It is, in 
the author's happy phrase, a "record of 
several years of variegated vagabondizing," 
covering the period of his departure for 
the mines until his first trip to Europe. 
The book, I suppose, has never been quite 
so popular as the Innocents Abroad, but it 
is distinctly more important. The descrip- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


tion of the old stage-coach journey across 
the plains, two thousand miles or so in 
twenty days; the pictures of the " fiush 
times" in the mining camps, the inci- 
dental portraits, comic or tragic, of the 
"bad man" of the West, are contribu- 
tions of the highest value to our knowledge 
of a now vanished phase of American life. 
There is plenty of fun in the book, ranging 
from truly humorous character sketches to 
the broadest burlesque, and at times to 
the stalest sort of comic paper foolery ; 
but there is something more than mere 
fun. As the author himself apologetically 
remarks, " there is quite a good deal of 
information in the book." And he goes 
on to say : " I regret this very much, but 
really it could not be helped. Information 
appears to stew out of me naturally like the 
precious ottar of roses out of the otter. 
Sometimes it has seemed to me that I 
would give worlds if I could retain my 
facts; but it cannot be. The more I calk 
up my sources and the tighter I get, the 
more I leak wisdom." 

There is still another aspect in which 
Tiftughing It is a better book than the 
Innocents, and that is the side of the 
writer's character which it presents. 
Mark Twain's first book, it must be con- 
fessed, revealed in a strong light some of 
the most unpleasing traits which its author 
shared along with the average untutored 
American : his ignorance, his irreverence, 
his general self-satisfaction, and his occa- 
sional bumptiousness. But it is no uncom- 
mon phenomenon that the sort of Amer- 
ican whom abroad one avoids like the 
plague is a very different character at 
home, and Roughing It shows plainly 
enough the presence in Mark Twain of 
certain qualities which one is glad to 
believe are typically American — unquench- 
able good humor even in the most trying 
situations, unfailing kindness towards 
one's fellow-man, unfaltering reverence 
for woman, versatility, energy, and honesty. 

Life on the Mississippi, 1883, is a second 
work which may be ranked with Roughing 
It as a contribution to our knowledge of 
American life. Broadly speaking, the 

book falls into two parts, the first dealing 
with the writer's own experiences as a 
river pilot, the second being little more 
than newspaper "copy" compiled during 
the course of an excursion twenty years 
later. There is some good stufif in the 
second part, but the first is gold without 
alloy. Here we have no brilliant set pieces 
of conscious joking, but a subtle humor of 
character, incident and situation, dififused 
throughout, and combined with a power 
of strong and sustained narrative such as 
no earlier work has shown, a power which 
even so severe a critic as the London 
Athenccum pronounced to be within the 
reach of few or no contemporary writers. 
If it were not too much like an Irish bull, 
one would say that Mark Twain's feet 
were nowhere planted so firmly upon the 
ground of remembered experience as when 
he is afloat upon the great river that washed 
the shores of his first home. Mention has 
been made somewhere of Mark Twain's 
tenacious memory for detail and his micro- 
scopic imagination ; and it is no unfair 
assumption to suppose that these qualities 
are due, in part at least, to his long and 
arduous apprenticeship as a "cub" pilot. 
In these pages he tells us repeatedly and 
elaborately how he was "taught the river," 
compelled by advice, warning, abuse, and 
mockery to remember all its varying marks 
and depths and bars in daylight and dark- 
ness, in fog and storm, at low water and 
in flood. 

"I think a pilot's memory is about the 
most wonderful thing in the world. To 
know the Old and New Testaments by 
heart, and be able to recite them glibly, 
forward or backward, or begin at random 
anywhere in the book and recite both 
ways and never trip or make a mistake, is 
no extravagant mass of knowledge, and no 
marvellous facility, compared to a pilot's 
massed knowledge of the Mississippi and 
his marvellous facility in the handling of it. 
I make this comparison deliberately, and 
believe I am not expanding the truth when 
I do it. Many will think my figure too 
strong, but pilots will not." 

Mark Twain's first experiment in fiction 


The Booklovers Magazine 

was made some thirty years ago in com- 
pany with Charles Dudley Warner. Their 
joint work, The Gilded Age, is an incoher- 
ent and sensational satire on the era of 
speculation and political corruption that 
followed the Civil War, Probably no living 
American was less fitted to pull in double 
harness than Mark Twain, and it would 
have been hard to find a more unsuitable 
mate for him than the gentle, bookish, and 
somewhat dreamy Warner. No wonder, 
then, that the book has failed to take 
rank among the masterpieces of either 
author. Yet it contains at least one epi- 
sode, the steamboat race, and one character, 
Colonel Sellers, that are real additions to 
American literature. We are not likely to 
go wrong in assigning both of these to 
Mark Twain. The material for the epi- 
sode he found, of course, in his own 
experience as a pilot, and Colonel Sellers 
had in all probability his origin in some of 
the genial liars with whom the author 
came in contact during his Western life; 
but both episode and character have been 
passed through the crucible of his imagina- 
tion until they have been transformed into 
something far superior to mere accurate 
reporting or burlesque exaggeration. Listen 
for a moment to the Colonel as he expounds 
to a credulous hearer one of his schemes. 
" I have a small idea that may develop 
into something for us both, all in good 
time. Before many weeks I wager the 
country will ring with the fame of Beriah 
Sellers' Infallible Imperial Oriental Optic 
Liniment and Salvation for Sore Eyes — 
the Medical Wonder of the Age I Small 
bottles fifty cents, large ones a dollar. 
Average cost, five and seven cents for 
the two sizes. The first year sell, 
say, ten thousand bottles in Missouri, 
seven thousand in Iowa, three thousand 
in Arkansas, four thousand in Ken- 
tucky, six thousand in Illinois, and say 
twenty-five thousand in the rest of the 
country. Total, fifty-five thousand bot- 
tles; profit, clear of all expenses, twenty 
thousand dollars at the very lowest calcula- 
tion. The second year, sales would reach 
200,000 bottles — clear profit, say, $75,000. 

The third year we could easily sell 
1,000,000 bottles in the United States. 

"And then it would begin to be time to 
turn our attention toward the real idea of 
the business. You ought to know that if 
I throw my time and abilities into a patent 
medicine, it's a patent medicine whose 
field of operations is the solid earth ! its 
clients the swarming nations that inhabit 
it I Why, what is the republic of America 
for an eye-water country ? Lord bless you, 
it is nothing but a barren highway that 
you've got to cross to get to the true eye- 
water market ! Why, Washington, in the 
Oriental countries people swarm like the 
sands of the desert ; every square mile of 
ground upholds its thousands upon thou- 
sands of struggling human creatures — and 
every separate and individual devil of 
them's got the ophthalmia! It's as nat- 
ural to them as noses are — and sin. It's 
born with them, it stays with them, it's 
all that some of them have left when they 
die. Three years of introductory trade in 
the Orient and what will be the result ? 
Why, our headquarters would be in Con- 
stantinople and our hindquarters in Further 
India ! Factories and warehouses in Cairo, 
Ispahan, Bagdad, Damascus, Jerusalem, 
Yeddo, Peking, Bangkok, Delhi, Bombay, 
and Calcutta! Annual income — well, 
God only knows how many millions and 

milhons apiece 

It is, I think, hardly too much to say 
that in such work as this we find for the 
first time distinct evidences of Mark 
Twain's real creative power. 

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, 1876, 
is the first in date of the trio of stories 
dealing with ante-bellum life in the slave- 
holding towns along the Mississippi, on 
which it now seems fairly evident that 
Mark Twain's fame will ultimately depend. 
Of these three it is the lightest, brightest, 
and most simply entertaining. The flood 
of animal spirits still runs bank-high 
through the book, breaking out at times 
into a foam of farce. There is, indeed, a 
bit of rather lurid melodrama woven into 
the texture of the story, a villainous half- 
breed, a bloody murder, buried treasure. 

The Booklovers Magazine 


and other stock properties of the penny 
dreadful. Though this matter is artfully 
arranged to give some striking scenes, it 
is to such a little masterpiece of pure 
comedy as Tom at the white-washing job, 
wherein the hero sells to his friends the 
privilege of doing the work for him, that 
we turn in grateful remembrance. The 
dialogue between Tom and his first victim, 
Ben Rogers, is inimitable : 

Say — Pm going in a swimming, / am. 
Don't you wish you could? But of 
course you'd druther work — wouldn't 
you ? Course you would ! " 

Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and 
said : " What do you call work ? " 

" Why ain't that work ?" 

Tom resumed his whitewashing, and 
answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, 
and maybe it ain't. All I know is, it suits 
Tom Sawyer." 

'Oh come, now, you don't mean to let 
on that you like it ? " 

The brush continued to move. " Like 
it ? Well, I don't see why I oughn't to 
like it. Does a boy get a chance to white- 
wash a fence every day ? " 

That put the thing in a new light. 

Ben stopped nibbling his apple 

Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let me 
whitewash a little." .... 

"No — no — I reckon it wouldn't hardly 
do, Ben. You see. Aunt Polly's awful 
particular about this fence — right here on 
the street, you know — but if it was the 
back fence I wouldn't mind and she 
wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular 
about this fence; it's got to be done very 
careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a 
thousand, maybe two thousand — that can 
do it the way it's got to be done." .... 

"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. 
Now lemme try. Say — I'll give you the 
core of my apple." 

"Well, here — No, Ben, now don't. 
I'm afeard— " 

"I'll give you all of it !" 

Tom gave up the brush with reluctance 
in his face but alacrity in his heart. 

We hardly need the author's assurance 
that most of the adventures in Tom Sawyer 

really occurred , for the story breathes convic- 
tion from every page. The scenes in the 
schoolroom, the Sunday-school, and the 
village church reproduce for us the atmo- 
sphere of the little inland town as per- 
suasively as Mr. Aldrich's Bad Boy does 
that of old New England. And as a study 
in child-life, as a revelation of the soul of a 
boy, Tom Sawyer beats all rivals out of the 
field. One admirer has even gone so far as 
to declare it a very proper basis for a system 
of pedagogy. This, I fancy, would be an 
honor that the author never dreamed of. 

Huckleberry Finn, 1885, shows a very 
distinct advance over Tom Sawyer in seri- 
ousness and power of composition. The 
real heart of the book is, of course, the 
narrative of Huck's flight down the Miss- 
issippi with the runaway nigger, Jim; and 
the successive incidents of this flight unroll 
for us a panorama of life on the great 
river in a series of pictures whose variety, 
reality, humor, and occasional tragic 
power, it is almost impossible to praise too 
highly. To quote Andrew Lang's apt 
words, it is "a nearly flawless gem of 
romance and humor." We feel that the 
author is standing on familiar ground, and 
dealing with the characters and scenes 
that surrounded his own youth. Consider, 
for example, this picture of daybreak on 
the Mississippi. 

" Two or three days and nights went by ; 
I reckon I might say they swum by, they 
slid along so quiet and smooth and lovely. 
Here is the way we put in the time. It 
was a monstrous big river down there — 
sometimes a mile and a half wide; we run 
nights, and laid up and hid daytimes ; soon 
as night was most gone we stopped navi- 
gating and tied up — nearly always in the 
dead water under a tow-head ; and then 
cut young cottonwoods and willows, and 
hid the raft with them. Then we set out 
the lines. Next we slid into the river and 
had a swim, so as to freshen up and cool 
off; then we set down on the sandy bot- 
tom where the water was about knee deep, 
and watched the daylight come. Not a 
sound anywheres — perfectly still — just like 
the whole world was asleep, only some- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

times the bull-frogs a-cluttering, ma\be. 
The first thing to see, looking away over 
the water, was a kind of dull line — that 
was the woods on t'other side; you 
couldn't make nothing else out ; then a 
pale place in the sky ; then more paleness 
spreading around ; then the river softened 
up away off, and warn't black any more, 
but gray; you could see little dark spots 
drifting along ever so far away — trading 
scows, and such things; and long black 
streaks — rafts ; sometimes you could hear 
a sweep screaking; or jumbled up voices, 
it was so still, and sounds come so far ; 
and by-and-by you could see a streak on 
the water which you know by the look of 
the streak that there's a snag there in a 
swift current which breaks en it and 
makes that streak look that way ; and you 
see the mist curl up off of the water, and 
the east reddens up, and the river, and you 
make out a log-cabin in the edge of the 
woods, away on the bank on t'other side 
of the river, being a wood-yard, likely, and 
piled by them cheats so you can throw a 
dog through it anywheres ; then the nice 
breeze springs up, and comes fanning you 
from over there, so cool and fresh and 
sweet to smell on account of the woods 
and the flowers ; but sometimes not that 
way because they've left dead fish laying 
around, gars, and such, and they do get 
pretty rank ; and next you've got the full 
day, and everything smiling in the sun, 
and the song-birds just going it ! " 

Notable in this masterpiece. Huckleberry 
Finn, is the power of characterization. It is 
not too much, I think, to say that Jim is the 
best portrait of the negro slave in English 
literature, fromOroonoko to Uncle Remus. 
We need only compare him with the 
idealized figures in Uncle Tom's Cabin— 
white gentlemen with faces blackened for 
the occasion — to see the difference between 
work based upon vmderstanding and that 
which is merely the product of the unaided 
imagination. The ignorance, superstition, 
humility, kind-heartedness, and grateful 
devotion of the slave have never been so 
vividly portrayed. Huck himself is an even 
more subtle study. It is no small task 

for the author of a book written through- 
out in the first person to keep himself out 
of the picture, to refrain from speaking in 
his own voice through the mouth of the 
supposed narrator. Even Thackeray has 
not wholly succeeded in disengaging him- 
self from Henry Esmond. But Huck Finn 
is altogether objective; more objective, I 
think, and more individual than even his 
brother-in-arms, Tom Sawyer. Nothing 
in all the author's work shows so clearly 
his power of putting himself in another's 
place as this careful and loving portrait of 
a village outcast — dirty, idle, thievish, 
lying, and yet at heart so conscientious, 
so loving, and so true. 

Pudd'nhead IVilson, the last of this group 
of stories, has an artistic unity which the 
others lack. Curiously enough this sombre 
story took shape in the author's mind as a 
farce, which turned into a tragedy under 
his very hands. In one of the most amus- 
ing glimpses of a literary workshop that an 
author has ever given us, IVIr. Clemens 
tells of his trouble with the tangled story. 
The farce and the tragedy, he says, ob- 
structed and interrupted each other at 
every turn, and created no end of confus- 
ion and annoyance, until he finally pulled 
the former up by the roots and left the 
other, "a kind of literary Czesarean 

The result of the operation, however, 
is by no means wholly gratifying. Pudd'n- 
head Pfilson is a tragedy, but a very 
sordid one. There is no trace left of the 
light-hearted gaiety of Tom Sawyer, and 
very little of the genial humanity of 
Huckleberry Finn. On the contrary, the 
book is marked by a strong dash of ironical 
cynicism which finds utterance mainly in 
the obiter dicta of the titular hero, prefixed 
as mottoes to the various chapters. "If 
you pick up a starving dog and make him 
prosperous, he will not bite you ; that is 
the principal difference between a dog and 
a man," says one of these. That is not 
the sort of thing that the Mark Twain of 
Innocents Abroad would have regarded as a 
joke, and it runs counter to the experiences 
of Tom with Muf? Potter, and of Huck 

The Booklovers Magazine 


with "nigger Jim." It is, perhaps, a 
result of this bitter mood that there is 
no one figure in the book capable of 
arresting and retaining our sympathies. 
Tom Driscoll, the slave who takes his 
master's place, is a monster of meanness, 
cowardice, and ingratitude ; the mulatto, 
Roxana, is a strongly conceived, but rather 
repellent character; and Pudd'nhead himself 
is, till the very close of the book, a mere 
lay figure on which to hang the author's 
own philosophizings. And yet the work 
is by no means devoid of power. It is a 
strong, direct, and simple piece of narrative; 
it has an ingeniously constructed plot and 
a startling climax; and like its predecessors 
it is a genuine and realistic picture of that 
phase of American life with which the 
author is most familiar. Had any one but 
Mark Twain written such a book it would 
no doubt have been more generally recog- 
nized as the grave and powerful piece of 
art it really is. 

The Prince and the Pauper^ l88o, is the 
first of a trio of stories dealing with medie- 
val life. All of these, but especially the 
first, have a certain intellectual kinship 
with Innocents Abroad. In that book 
Mark Twain reported his discovery of 
Europe ; in The Prince and the Pauper he 
proclaimed his discovery of the historic 
past. And apparently he was as much 
surprised to find that the past dififered from 
his own age as he had once been to dis- 
cover that they "managed things better in 
France." But he is by no means ready to 
admit that they managed things better 
under Henry the Eighth. Indeed his point 
of view is very much that of Charles 
Dickens, whose caricature of Henry as a 
cross between Blue Beard and Giant 
Blunderbore is probably responsible for 
the current misconception of that great 
king. It would, no doubt, be a some- 
what harder task to point out such glaring 
inaccuracies in The Prince and the Pauper 
as occasionally disfigure the Innocents; but 
any one who has studied the social life of 
England under the Tudors, from contem- 
porary sources, will feel before he is half 
way through the book that the colors are 

laid on too heavily. And the curious 
mingling in the diction of the stock phrase- 
ology of the historical novel — the gad- 
zooks, by-my-fay style — with the fresh and 
racy vigor of Mark Twain's natural idiom, 
jars heavily upon the ear. 

But after all The Prince and the Pauper, 
taken simply as a story, is a good story — 
simple, sweet, and interesting. And to 
those who care for something more than 
a mere story it will always have a peculiar 
charm as the fullest and frankest revelation 
of some of the author's noblest qualities, 
his sympathy with the poor and the 
rejected, his love of justice and mercy, 
and his hatred of cruelty and oppression in 
all their forms, whether in naked brutality, 
or cloaked under the delusive garb of law 
and established custom. 

The Yankee at the Court of King Arthur, 
1889, is to my mind the least successful of 
Mark Twain's novels. The conception 
on which it rests is, indeed, a capital 
one for a farce. But unfortunately the 
growing seriousness of the author's view 
of life did not permit him to handle his 
conception farcically. A great part of the 
book is occupied with a polemic, direct or 
veiled, against feudalism and chivalry — 
two very different institutions, by the way, 
although here perpetually confounded. 
And, after all, the age of feudalism and of 
chivalry is past and gone; there is no 
longer need of a Cervantes; why therefore 
beat the bones of the dead ? 

The Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, 
1896, is by all odds the most considerable 
work of this group. It is based upon more 
careful study, it holds closer to the truth 
of history, and it is a sincere attempt to 
re-draw without distortion or caricature 
the features of one of the most striking 
personalities of all times. One thing at 
least the shrewd Yankee found desirable 
at King Arthur's court — a good woman ; 
and it is highly creditable to the Yankee's 
creator that the one thing which Mark 
Twain has found love-worthy in the 
despised Middle Ages is the pure and 
gracious figure of the Maid of Orleans. 
As every one knows, this story appeared 


The Booklovers Magazine 

anonymously in The Century, amid much 
debate as to its authorship. Really there 
was no question for debate ; the first 
instaUment of the story contained at least 
one scene that no one but Mark Twain 
could have written ; and several of the 
characters are familiar figures from his 
works, transplanted to the France of the 
fifteenth century — the Paladin, for ex- 
ample, is one of Mark Twain's genial 
braggarts, La Hire one of his golden- 
hearted ruffians. Yet it must be acknowl- 
edged that Joan of Arc is, perhaps, the 
least characteristic of Mark Twain's 
works. It is notably deficient in the fresh 
and vigorous dialogue which occupies so 
large a space in Huckleberry Finn and 
Pudd'nhead IVilson ; it contains almost 
none of those superb bits of narrative 
which seem to bring a scene to life before 
our eyes ; if the truth must be told, it is at 
times open to one charge that can be 
brought against none of his former works, 
the charge of dulness. 

Since Joan of Arc Mark Twain has not 
produced any work that calls here for special 
consideration. Following the Equator is a 
relapse into the early manner of Innocents 
Abroad, without the fresh gaiety of that 
work ; Tom Sawyer Detective, and the 
Double -Barrelled T)etective Story continue 
a line of work first begun in Pudd' nhead 
IVilson t where the mere plot interest is 
superior to that in character or setting. 
The Man that Corrupted Hadleyhurg is a 
satire on Yankee hypocrisy and greed that 
would be wliolly admirable, if it were not 
for the tragic catastrophe imposed so 
inaptly upon a climax of roaring farce. In 
addition to these we have a number of 
short stories, literary and critical essays, 
and impressions of travel. None of them 
is without the hall-mark of Mark 
Twain's peculiar genius, but none of them 
constitutes any very distinct addition to his 

It is too soon to attempt any definitive 
estimate of Mark Twain's work. Mr. 
Clemens is still so far from old age that 
we may confidently look forward to 
fresh work which must be taken into 

account in any final summing up. But 
there are one or two points, touched on 
for the most part already in the course of 
this review, which may here be brought 
together with a view to obtaining at 
least a partial appreciation of his work. 
Enough has been said to show that Mark 
Twain is by no means the mere " funny 
man" of popular conception, but a 
humorist of extraordinary powers, wide 
range, and deep human sympathies. He is 
a past master of farce, burlesque, and gro- 
tesque exaggeration ; but he is also an 
inimitable story-teller, and at his best an 
unsurpassed delineator of character. His 
humor does not depend upon bad spelling 
or worse grammar, although he knows 
better than any man alive, perhaps, how 
to use dialect to heighten his effects. He 
is not, in the old sense of the word, a 
literary man. He does not connect with 
any of the established traditions of humor, 
but represents a new force, "as simple in 
form," to borrow I\Ir. Howells' fine com- 
parison, " and as direct as the statesman- 
ship of Lincoln or the generalship of 
Grant." And like these great Americans 
— both it may be noted, representatives of 
his own section — Mark Twain has devoted 
his great powers to the service of the right. 
His work is characterized by a sweet sun- 
niness, across which no shadow of impurity 
ever falls. It is no small thing for us, as 
Americans, to be able to record that our 
greatest humorist has never written a page 
that can offend true modesty. His sympathy 
has always gone out to the poor, the 
despised, and the oppressed; and his un- 
rivalled powers of ridicule have been 
steadily directed against conventionality, 
hypocrisy, aflEectation, and humbug. It 
is not, I think, too much to prophesy 
that, when the time comes for a final 
estimate of Mark Twain, he will be recog- 
nized as one of the most national of 
American authors, and one of the peculiar 
glories of American literature. 



The Protection Policy in England 
would it hurt us? 


Mr. Joseph Chamberlain may win or 
lose in his colossal attempt to alter the 
fiscal policy of the British Empire — some 
eleven million square miles, four hundred 
millions of population, and seven billion, 
five hundred million dollars of trade exports 
and imports together. This is about a 
fifth of the habitable land, about a quarter 
of the world's population, and about a half 
its frontier trading. For this vast frac- 
tion of the world's afifairs Mr. Chamber- 
lain proposes to reverse the settled policy 
of two generations. He intends to sub- 
stitute for the individual growth of this 
vast congeries of lands and peoples in the 
Empire a common mutual use of mutual 
demand and consumption, to secure a 
mutual advance. For over a century since 
Burke's act, reorganizing English col- 
onial relations, accepted the lesson of the 
loss of America, British policy has sought 
the growth of the whole by giving the 
parts a free individual development. Mr. 
Chamberlain proposes to develop the parts 
by giving the whole a mutual develop- 
ment. Where each part has been left free 
to take care of itself, he proposes that the 
whole shall arrange its afifairs to take care 
of each part. Where each has had its 
tariff, treating all other British lands as for- 
eign, he urges that preferential tarififs 
shall unite the scattered portions of the 
British Empire in one vast tariff-ring fence 
of mutually related tariffs. 

These territories are now within the 

same political boundary and under the 
same flag ; but they enjoy a complete 
freedom. Each makes its own rates to 
suit itself. By mutual arrangement, not 
by legislation at Westminster, Mr. Cham- 
berlain plans to introduce three changes. 
First a low duty on foreign food is both 
to shift the production of food for English 
consumption to the colonies and increase 
the home-grown product. In time, though 
Mr. Chamberlain does not now urge this, 
a like preferential duty would do the like 
for colonial-grown raw materials. Second, 
duties on foreign manufactures in the 
colonies and the mother country are to 
aid the colonial market for English goods 
and exclude some share of the foreign 
manufactures entering England. Third, 
both England and the colonies are together 
and jointly, by conceding reductions, to 
use this advance in tariff rates to require 
foreign countries to make like concessions 
in their tarifif rates on English and colonial 
products and manufactures. 

This stupendous reversal and revolution 
of the economic policy of a fourth of the 
human race, like all such changes, is an 
effect and not a cause. Whatever Mr. 
Chamberlain may achieve or fail, he, his 
policy, and the economic changes he urges 
are only the outcome of the rising tide of 
British imperialism. A fiscal revolution is 
the first flotsam this rising tide throws on 
the beach of human affairs; but the tide is 
more than its flotsam. It is not preferen- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

tial tariffs which are to unite the Empire. 
It is because the Empire is more closely 
united that preferential tariffs are pro- 
posed. They are discussed because pref- 
erential trade already exists. It took sixty 
years of our tariff before a protective tariff 
was seen to be a national necessity to 
secure national industrial independence. 
The German high protective tariff, 
of 1879, succeeded and did not pre- 
cede German unity and the German 

Mr. Chamberlain has held the ear of 
the British Empire not because his voice 
is loud but because the Empire is ready to 
listen. From the time of the American 
colonies to the defeat of Mr. Gladstone's 
Irish Home Rule measure there was a 
steady movement towards the devolution 
of autonomy, responsibility, and practical 
independence. Each year saw the loosen- 
ing of the bonds of rule and the bands of 
empire. When Mr. Gladstone proposed 
to give Ireland much less than Canada 
has, the tide turned. Looking back nigh 
a score of years, it is clear now that Mr. 
Gladstone was the unconscious victim, as 
Mr. Chamberlain is the more conscious 
mouthpiece, of the broad movement to- 
wards imperial unity. Preferential tariffs 
come because a preference for the Empire 
has arrived, just as it was no accident that 
the same party raised the flag over the 
seceded States and raised the tariff on our 

British trade has already recorded what 
British policy proposes to enact. In the 
last thirty years, 1872 to 1902, British ex- 
ports, less coal and ships, to Europe and the 
United States have fallen $495,000,000 
from $705,000,000, a shrinkage of two- 
thirds. British exports to British colonies 
and possessions in the same score of 
years have risen from $295,000,000 to 
$525,000,000, or nearly doubled. Thirty 
years ago, British investments in the 
colonies were relatively small. Today, of 
British investments in foreign lands, three- 
fourths are in British possessions under 
the British flag. For all this fact that 
the trade of other great nations has 

relatively grown faster than that of Great 
Britain, the absolute superiority of English 
trade remains unchallenged. The trade 
of the United Kingdom is the largest the 
world knows; but the constituent portions 
have shifted. In 1872 the colonies were 
taking less than a third as much of Eng- 
lish manufactures as the rest of the world 
outside of the Empire. By 1902 they 
were taking two-thirds. The United 
States supplies its own market. Germany 
does the same. Both pour a great stream 
into markets where Great Britain is dis- 
possessed. She still holds her foremost 
place because her exports go to her col- 
onies. British manufactured exports to 
the world outside of the British Empire 
had not grown from 1882 to 1902. Such 
increase as had come had gone to the 

Politics follows trade. Political plat- 
forms are first written in ledgers. All 
political majorities are added first in some 
mercantile balance sheet. Our own Civil 
War had been won in the trade of the 
North before it was fought on the battle- 
fields of the South. English trade and 
English investments had shifted English 
interests to the Empire before imperialism 
became a party cry. The sales of Ameri- 
can securities held in England have been, 
as every one knows, enormous in the past 
ten years, yet English investments abroad 
have grown $460,000,000 from 1890-91 to 
1901-02. In twenty years these invest- 
ments have doubled, yet through most of 
that period our securities have been com- 
ing to this country. The reinvestment has 
been in the colonies. 

This movement of trade and investments 
caused the political change which halted 
the further separation of the Empire, and 
began — first in 1887, and again in 1897 — 
the alterations in sentiment and interest 
which now take shape in a new economic 
policy. Adopted now or in the future, if 
the British Empire remains a going con- 
cern, it is certain, like the United States, 
to succeed its consciousness of political 
unity by some form of protection, exactly 
as a like consciousness brought protection 

The Booklovers Magazine 


first in the United States and next in 

The world, as is its noisy manner, will 
talk of the economic change in tariffs, but 
the real change will be in political condi- 
tions. These will affect the United States 
far more than preferential tariffs. No tariff 
rate can keep out cheap goods. Nothing 
can prevent the effect of a' change in 
political conditions. The growth of the 
markets within the Empire is already 
strengthening imperial bonds. Canada 
faces insuperable odds in its shape, its cli- 
mate, and the distribution of its industries. 
Every fifth child born in Canada comes to 
this country to live. Canada loosely con- 
nected with England could count for little ; 
Canada closely connected must deeply 
affect the United States. The gravitation 
of trade has for years been drawing the 
fragments of the British Empire closer to 
the United States. Aroused to imperial 
relations, this will cease. Canada will be 
a link in the shortest route to Australia. 
It already owes its steamship lines, and 
will owe the solvency of the Canadian 
Pacific, to imperial aid. Our diplomacy 
has worked freely over this hemisphere, 
from Alaska to Panama, because English 
attention was in the East. This freedom 
will cease as the British Empire comes to 
feel itself. 

There is room enough in the world for 
both the English-speaking nations, but 
there is the greatest difference in the posi- 
tion of the United States facing a British 
Empire united only by the tie of a common 
sovereign and colonial secretary, and one 
brought into close relations by tariff-deals 
and tariff-concessions. This ends not 
only the prospect of special reciprocity 
arrangements with Canada, Newfound- 
land, and the islands of the Antilles, 
but it risks future collision. In China 
Australia will have more and more to say; 
and British outposts in Borneo hedge in 
any future expansion from the Philippines 
— but for this bar the best base for an 
insular empire held by any country. 

The moral might of the United States 
will be scarcely less influenced than its 

political and diplomatic conditions. The 
Boer War forced the junior member of the 
firm to assume the responsibilities of the 
senior partner, and in China and elsewhere 
the United States has for five years led in 
deciding the policy and determining the 
conduct of international affairs. At the 
Hague Peace Conference, in the advance 
on Peking, in the Chinese settlement, in 
the "open door," in the issue before the 
Hague as to the collection of international 
claims by force, and at Panama, the United 
States has led the way. Russian develop- 
ment is still far away, and no European 
power approaches the position of the 
United States. But if there once sits in 
London a body — call it what you will — 
which adjusts tariffs in India and Australia, 
decides what duties Canada or Jamaica 
shall impose, and settles the give and take 
of the two score constituent bodies of the 
British Empire, its capital by an economic 
revolution will enjoy a political renaissance. 
These political changes, which will only 
dawn on men as they take place, will out- 
weigh the effect of mere changes in the 
tariff. Such changes have a prodigious 
internal effect. Their external influence 
is small. Who has been conscious in this 
country of the changes in the German 
tariff which have advanced the duty on 
wheat from ten marks a metric ton, in 
1879, to fifty marks, 1887-92, and thirty- 
five marks for eleven years since ? The 
average price of wheat has fallen in Ger- 
many through all this period, our exports 
have been maintained, and Germany has 
stimulated its cereal product while Eng- 
land's wheat yield has withered. Argen- 
tina will this year export one-half as much 
wheat as the United States. Our own 
free share for export diminishes. From 
1880 to 1890 we increased our farm area 
one-half (fifty per cent.), but our cereals 
only one-fourth (twenty-seven per cent.). 
Our population doubled (ninety-two per 
cent.). In twenty- five years, if our popu- 
lation goes on growing as for the last ten 
years — a diminished rate — all our wheat 
will be needed at home. At present, we 
supply two-thirds of the imports of Great 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Britain — for five years sixty and one-tenth 
per cent. — and half its consumption. A 
new supply will be necessary as our crop is 
consumed at home, a consumption today 
maintaining prices. As this takes place it 
is for England to decide whether the new 
supply shall come from Argentina and other 
points, or under preferential duties from 
its own colonies. A small tax would 
decide this; and it would make no differ- 
ence to us, as our exports shrank, where 
their place was supplied, as we became like 
France a land consuming all its wheat at 
home, and importing little or none. So in 
provisions, and other food, our export does 
not keep- pace with our product. Except 
in fresh beef, we have passed the largest 
exports. Here again, a new supply must 
soon be developed. Argentina and New 
Zealand, two little countries, send to Eng- 
land alone more fresh beef and mutton by 
one-half than we export to all countries. 
High meat prices, due to our free con- 
sumption, are forcing aside our exports. 

If by a differential England turns its new 
meat consumption to New Zealand, a con- 
sumption we no longer meet, what differ- 
ence will it make to us ? In ten years we 
grow half as many new mouths as England 
and all Europe. We fill these mouths. 
They are empty abroad. Ten and twenty 
years ago our food exports were half our 
entire exports. They are hardly a third 
now. Their share grows less. It will be 
of small moment to us whether England 
draws its new supply from its own colonies 
or elsewhere, and Mr. Chamberlain's policy 
comes at the very moment this change 
must be met. At some particular year 
and juncture the new English policy may 
be felt ; but not in the sweep of years. 

Cotton faces a different condition. 
Two-thirds of the world's supply is grown 
in this country. Unless the boll weevil 
cuts off our crop, this will continue to be 
the case. Even here our consumption 
has doubled in twenty years — 1,964,000 
bales in 1882, and 4,083,000 in igo2 — 

From drawing b\ t . c. Could 


The Booklovers Magazine 


while that of England is stationary. Our 
imports of cotton goods grow little. What 
England once sent here goes now to its 
colonial possessions. England in the Sou- 
dan has a vast area where cotton grows 
wild. Were the new policy to preference 
Egyptian and Indian cotton, and to start 
the industry in the Soudan, the resulting 
reduction in the amount imported by Eng- 
land from this country would reduce both 
prices and profits in the cotton-belt. Our 
wool and our hides we consume at home. 
No change in English policy could alter 
their world demand. In round numbers, 
not one quarter of our exports of agricul- 
tural products, and not a tithe of their 
total product, would feel theefifect of Eng- 
lish preferential duties. Men often forget 
that the United States is as self-sufficing 
as a planet. 

Manufactures twenty years ago gave a 
tenth of our exports; ten years ago, a 
sixth; today a third; tomorrow, half. As 
food relatively diminishes, manufactures 
increase. One-half our total exports, 
much more than half our exports of 
manufactures, goes to the British Empire, 
and about one-third to Great Britain 
itself. But here, also, the proportion 
going abroad is small. Out of thirteen 
billion dollars of manufactures in 1900 
only four hundred and thirty-three millions 
were exported — less than four per cent. 

A duty, even a light duty, on English 
imports of manufactures would affect our 
trade ; but it would affect it very much 
less than is commonly supposed. In copper, 
for instance, where the supply is — one 
might say — habitually greater than the 
demand, the American producer would 
have to pay the differential by which the 
vain efifort would be made to develop a 
new source of supply. In iron and steel, 
for ten years the product of English pig- 
iron has been stationary, and exports of 
iron and steel have been unchanged in 
value for twenty years, though increased 
in amount. Both have been checked by 
our own development and Germany's — 
countries which under protective tariffs 
have gained at the expense of England. 

But there is this difference between our 
position and England's, when facing com- 
petition due to a protected industry : 
nearly half the English product goes 
abroad — three millions, two hundred thou- 
sand tons of pig-iron, wrought and un- 
wrought, out of eight millions. The act- 
ual proportion is larger because, of ** iron 
and steel, wrought and unwrought," much 
goes abroad from England in forms not 
covered by exports reckoned by weight. 
In this country only one-seventh in value 
— one hundred and twenty-two million 
dollars oat of eight hundred and thirty-five 
millions — of iron and steel goes abroad. 
A still smaller proportion of other manu- 
factures is exported. Of this share, less 
than half goes to England. In round 
numbers, taking our entire manufactured 
product, it is to be doubted if three per 
cent, would be affected. This would not 
seriously influence price, product, or profit. 

If England adopts Mr. Chamberlain's 
policy of preferential duties, a share of our 
exports of manufactures now going to 
England would seek other markets, and a 
share of English manufactures now in this 
market would turn to the more favorable 
demand of English colonies. The same 
movement which for thirty years has 
diminished English manufactured exports 
outside the British Empire, and increased 
them inside, would be accelerated. 

As always in protection, the internal 
effect on the manufactures, trade, and 
exchanges of the British Empire would be 
very great if Mr. Chamberlain's policy 
were adopted — greater than anyone now 
imagines. The external effect on other 
nations would be small. The chief visible 
outer fruits would be political and not 
economic. The British Empire would 
become fitly framed together — an eco- 
nomic unit. Three great areas, the Rus- 
sian, the American — including dependen- 
cies united as Cuba is — and the British 
Empire, would develop an internal trade. 
Europe outside of Russia and Great Britain 
would be side-tracked. 

i!.>jusi^- >jS^- 

French art is, more than any other, a 
national expression. Its national charac- 
ter, perhaps the outcome of the French 
social genius, gives unity to the rival fac- 
tions that unceasingly wage healthy civil 
war in the name of art. No academic 
restraint is placed on the individual artist, 
but he is encompassed about with theories 
froin which he can no more escape than 
from his material atmosphere. The work 
of Jean Geoffroy, the famous child painter, 
illustrates this permeating influence. He 
is an idealist working with the tools of 
realism. The subject, the literary con- 
tent, of his pictures shows the man ; the 
treatment reveals the time. It is hard for 
an artist to serve two masters, but Geofif- 
roy has succeeded in satisfying both the 
public, athirst for a story, and the critic, 
scorning all but technic. 

Geof^roy's most noted work is his Visit - 
itig Day at the Hospital, exhibited at the 
Salon in 1889, and now in the Luxem- 
bourg. The choice of a hospital-scene 
stamps hiin a realist. But men of many 
moods march under that banner; this pic- 
ture is worlds, studio-worlds, asunder from 
such a triumph of naked realism as the 
famous dissecting-table picture of M. Ger- 
vex. The patient little sufferers, in the 
row of narrow cots, are enjoying the double 
sunshine of the day, their gleam of joy 
more intense from the pervading dark 
background of pain and weary waiting. 
The drawing, if a little stif?, is exact, and 
the composition easy and natural. With 
much skill the varying shades of white in 

coverlet, wall, and window are contrasted 
with each other, and with the strong, 
abrupt note of sombre color in the fore- 
ground. There is a world of pathos in 
that averted figure of the anxious father 
gazing on the helpless little sufJerer. 

The art-loving visitor to England who 
confines his attentions to the customary 
round of London's galleries and exhibi- 
tions, misses much that is most significant 
in present-day English art. In England, 
unlike in France, the provinces still count in 
art, not swallowed in the great maelstrom 
of the capital. In the last forty years 
the enterprise of the great corporations of 
Glasgow, Birmingham, Manchester, and 
Liverpool has established galleries of more 
than municipal importance and influence. 
Each is, in varying degree, an independent 
center of artistic activity. 

In the exhibitions of these centers one of 
the most prominent figures is Air. W. J. 
Hennessey. Mr. Hennessey finds his home 
and hischief fame in England, but was born 
in Ireland and educated in America. To 
complete the cosmopolitanism, his favorite 
subjects, as in his Spring and Jutumn, are 
the peasants of Normandy. The bareness 
of this autumn scene brings not dreariness, 
but reverie. The picture is instinct with a 
quiet dreamy suggestiveness, to which the 
handling of the atmospheric effects notably 
contributes. The composition is graceful 
and the tone delightfully harmonious. 



LJibkL ^2 ^ 


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The Booklovers Magazine 


The Luxembourg at Paris, it is well 
known, serves as an anteroom to the 
Louvre. There the pictures by living art- 
ists, which the State has bought, are hung 
till ten years after the painter's death, 
when they may be transferred to the 
Louvre's more permanent hall of fame. 
Among the recent acquisitions of the Lux- 
embourg is Mile. Breslau's The Sisters. 
It is a work of quiet charm, and of convinc- 
ing, if not sufficiently assimilated, reality. 
Mile. Breslau is a member of the Societe 
Nationale des Beaux-Arts, and a frequent 
exhibitor at the Champ de IVIars, the radi- 
cal salon which has this year joined forces 
again with the more conservative salon of 
thf: Champs Elysees, after a schism lasting 
since Meissonier's day. 

The great current of naturalism that 
surged through French art of the past half 
century is perceptible not only in the main 
stream, but in countless eddies and by- 
washes. The painter of Pommes de Terre, 
Jose de Souza-Pinto — Portuguese by birth, 
French by inspiration — is not a naturalist. 
He is an artist of dilettante aims, conde- 
scendingly interested in humble life if it 
happens to be picturesque — a practitioner 
of that genre which is the homage that 
classicism has ever paid to reality. Yet 
even he on occasion, as in this idyll of 
the potato-patch, is carried out of himself 
by the current, his art broadened and vital- 
ized, and a genuine feeling for nature 
awakened. He does not reach the level 
of the artists whose love of " high truth 
and lowly men " was more constant and 
integral than his, but for once his reach 
exceeds his grasp. 

A kindred spirit to Geoffroy is the painter 
of The Catechism, Jules Muenier. He, 
too, is a mild revolutionist, a realist of the 
second generation. He studied in Paris 
twenty years ago under Dagnan-Bouveret, 
but Paris did not hold him long. Back in 
his beloved Franche-Comte he paints the 
quiet country life of that secluded corner 
of France. 

The Catechism, painted in 1891 when 
the artist was twenty-seven, is of his best. 
Its outlines are firm and precise almost 
to primness, its coloring a compromise 
between the old canons and the new. 
The characterization is admirable. There 
is a world of experience, of good and bad, 
crystallized in the wrinkles and twinkles of 
the cure's humorously grim face, with its 
promise of solace for the troubled and of 
trouble for the evildoer. Each of his 
young parishioners is individualized, — the 
unfortunate youngster on the rack, uneasy 
in his sabots, the eleventh-hour student 
beside him, the damsel with consciousness 
of knowledge writ clear in her prim face, 
the trifler two moves from danger. There 
is a good deal of human nature displayed 
in that little presbytere garden of Franche- 

Although in painting Americans can 
scarcely be said to have an art of their own, 
they are first in the art of almost every other 
nation. Whatever the explanation be — 
whether it is that our national bent to- 
wards adaptation rather than creation 
finds expression here, or that our young 
country has not yet attained the social 
solidarity that makes French art homo- 
geneous — the fact remains. Of that fact 
Mr. Gari Melchers is a foremost illustra- 
tion. Born in Detroit forty-three years 
ago, he had by thirty assimilated the best 
of French teaching and mastered his 
masters in many fields. At first, under 
the influence of his classicist teachers 
Boulanger and Lefebvre, his work, though 
robust and sincere, had a fatal, hard, arid 
matter-of-factness. Later it broadened and 
softened, till in Motherhood he produced a 
picture that reaches to the heart of things. 
Here is the primitive mother, close to the 
earth, high only in her motherhood, full 
of strength and tenderness and hope for 
the staring, serious youngster nestling in 
her arms. The wealth of color in the 
woman's cloak and cap is essentially in 
keeping with the elemental directness of 
the whole theme. 


UJ 3 

X -^ 















Photographic Portraiture 


The word "portrait" is a most elastic 
one. By many it is applied indiscrimi- 
nately to all kinds of likenesses, from a 
Coney Island tintype to a Mona Lisa. 
But this vague usage is unsatisfactory. A 
distinction certainly exists between the 
mere likeness and the portrait. Just what 
establishes this distinction is difficult to put 
in words, yet every one recognizes it even 
though he may not always choose the 
proper term. 

We are all familiar with the ghastly 
effigies of departed officials that adorn the 
walls of banks and public offices. By the 
production of such as these, painstaking 
craftsmen eke out an existence. Unfor- 
tunately, our standards in the direction of 
what might be called "semi-public" art 
are far from high here in America. We 
take no interest in that kind of thing; our 
time is too occupied. So what is more 
natural than that we should turn the job 
of painting our rector, our mayor, or the 
head of our business over to the best 
advertised artistic hack, or to some one in 
whom we have a purely personal interest ? 
But it is not only the craftsman of no reputa- 
tion who turns out these monstrosities, with 
their smug, pink faces and wooden poses; 
painters of considerable fame have not been 
guiltless. In late years, also, a number of 
distinguished gentlemen from France and 
Italy have fattened at the expense of 
society, and particularly of New York 
society. It becomes the fashion for My 
Lady to be painted by Monsieur This or 
Signor That, and the trifling honorarium 
of five or ten thousand dollars is all too 
little to pay for the satisfaction of exhibit- 
ing the result to one's friends, tastefully 

adorned by ten inches of gold frame. The 
worst of all this is found in its efifect upon 
popular and undiscriminating taste. There 
is nothing to choose between the totally 
inartistic painted likeness and the " hand- 
some gold-framed crayon enlargement" 
of the department stores. One comes 
as near as the other to being a portrait 
in the true sense. But after all, what 
is the distinction between the like- 
ness and the portrait ? Is it merely 
the distinction between good and bad 
painting ? No ; for a canvas may be a 
work of unquestioned virtuosity without 
possessing the slightest portrait quality; or 
may be full of the uttermost ego of the 
sitter, and so a portrait of portraits, while 
totally lacking the essentials of careful and 
workmanlike painting. And here is the 
distinction. A portrait, to be anything 
more than a likeness, must go beneath the 
skin, must be saturated with the person- 
ality of the subject. It is character that 
is required ; not merely the character that 
may exist in a strongly modeled nose or 
chin, but that which shows itself in the 
set of a man's shoulders, the lift of a head, 
the turn of a hand, and in that indefinable 
thing which, for want of a better term, we 
call expression. Every painter knows that 
the customary allotment of features which 
make up the countenance of a sitter may 
be copied with infinite accuracy, one by 
one, and yet that the resulting whole may 
bear practically no resemblance to the sub- 
ject ; or, possessing a resemblance in detail, 
will be only a mask which must be endowed 
with life. This, then, is the ultimate ob- 
ject of good portraiture — the portrayal of all 
the subtle factors that make up character. 



The Booklovers Magazine 


But there are other desiderata if the 
resulting likeness is to be really a work of 
art, really a portrait ; it must be artistic, or 
pictorial — with all that the word implies — 
good in composition, in tone and balance, 
and in color. Further and lastly, it must 
possess the quality that is known as re- 
straint; it must stay in the frame, or better, 
"go back" from the frame through its 
tone and envelopment. The person of 
uncultivated taste praises this or that pic- 
ture because the head or figure "stands 
out," and too many painters who should 
know better attempt to produce this effect, 
instead of placing the figure within or 
behind the frame. As Whistler put it in 
his famous Proposition No. 2 : " The frame 
is indeed the window through which the 
painter looks at his model, and nothing 
could be more offensively inartistic than 
this brutal attempt to thrust the model on 
the hitherside of this window." 

There are many portrait painters of to- 
day, as there have been many in the past, 
who have, to a greater or less extent, 
solved these problems; but the fashionable 
painter of the moment is too apt to evade 
their solution, and to present instead his own 
individuality of expression, regardless of the 
character of his subject. Imagine the dash- 
ing, bravura style of Boldini applied to the 
portrayal of a Carlyle or a McKinley ! 

That these general observations may be 
considered as applicable in any degree to 
photographic portraiture is not generally 
realized, and yet a little reflection will 
show that this must be the case. A por- 
trait is a portrait by whatsoever means it 
is produced, and is conformable to the 
artistic rules which govern the general 
subject. Only comparatively recently, 
however, has portrait photography reached 
a level high enough to make it worthy of 
really serious consideration. From the 
days when Daguerre, Fox Talbot, Niepce, 
and the rest, worked out the wonderful 
discovery that light itself could be forced 
to record images upon sensitive substances, 
the object of nearly all scientific workers 
in this field has been to develop the purely 
technical side of photography. Only 

recently has the artist realized that it 
could be applied to his ends. The pro- 
fessional photographer of even ten years 
ago — with his gallery, his ornamental 
backgrounds, and his head-rests — learnt 
his trade as he might have learnt that of 
bricklaying. The idea that art-training 
could be necessary or desirable for him 
was one with which he was never troubled. 
Even today this attitude is unfortunately 
that of the rank and file of so-called por- 
trait photographers. If one of these is 
sufficiently alert as a business man to sub- 
scribe for one of the trade journals, he 
may read, along with a series of articles 
on the conduct and management of the 
Reception Room and Show Case, an oc- 
casional dissertation on the correct method 
of obtaining ' ' Rembrandt Lighting. ' ' This, 
it seems, can be infallibly realized by the 
use of three or four screens and a most 
complicated arrangement of the skylight 
shades, all of which is set forth in a couple 
of diagrams. By these simple means the 
" operator " may turn out masterpieces 
by the dozen which are calculated to 
cause the great Dutchman to turn in his 

But there are today a number of people 
of artistic instincts and training who have 
taken up photography as a means of artis- 
tic expression, realizing that in skilful 
hands the camera, plate, and print may be 
so treated as to render results in portrait- 
ure which, except for the lack of color, 
rival the best canvases of the masters of 
portraiture of all time. For, strange as it 
may seem, the camera in the hands of an 
artist is in some respects a more elastic 
medium than the brush. The greatest 
painter is unconsciously handicapped at 
times by the style that he has made his 
own, and which may be quite unsuitable 
to certain subjects, as the art of Boldini, 
already mentioned, would probably fail in 
the attempt to set forth dignity and repose, 
however well adapted it might be to a 
dashing or " smart " subject. 

The man of equal powers, working 
with camera and plate, may work out his 
portrait composition almost without limi- 



The Booklovers Magazine 


tations so far as his process is concerned. 
It is evident, also, that the rapidity with 
which exposures may be made gives him a 
considerable advantage over the painter, 
not merely because of the saving of time 
effected, but because of the greater spon- 
taneity of pose and expression which may 
be attained. Less hampered by the me- 
chanics of his medium than the painter, 
his brain has freer play. 

It has been urged against photography 
that it falls short as an artistic medium 
because of the alleged impossibility of pic- 
torial selection. It is claimed that the 
lens, as a coldly scientific appliance, must 
perforce record all that is before it, and that 
unnecessary and obtrusive detail may not 
be eliminated. This, however, is not the 
case. The advanced worker of today, 
with the multiplicity of lenses and pro- 
cesses which science has placed at his 
disposal, may suppress or accentuate detail 
virtually at will. Tnus an almost unlimited 
field is open to the photographer of artistic 
feeling and training, and there can be no 
question as to the merits of his results. 

But it must not bethought that I would 
belittle the skill required to produce these 
results. There is no royal road to profi- 
ciency in this branch of art. No amount 
of feeling for the beautiful will atone for a 
lack of technical knowledge, and only hard 
work and study will put one in a position, 
in photography as in painting, to reduce to 
pictorial form the beauties which he may 
see in nature. 

It is a curious fact that in the judging 
for exhibition purposes of this new pho- 
tography, when — as has occasionally been 
the case, painter and photographer have 
served together on a jury — it has always 
been the photographer who has set the 
higher standard. The painter in his own 
branch of art is too apt to condone the 
absence of one quality because of the pres- 
ence of another, as bad composition may 
be overlooked in a work which glows with 
color. So, in the judging of photographs 
the painter will be frequently prejudiced in 
favor of a print because of some attractive 
quality of tone or perspective that it may 

possess, while to the more critical eye of 
the photographer it may lack qualities of 
vastly greater importance. 

Those who are in the van of this new 
movement in photography know that the 
recognition which they have gained is not 
yet absolute. They desire and expect for 
their work the fullest and most complete 
recognition, and they realize that this may 
be attained only through the maintenance 
on their part of the highest standards and 

The very interesting portraits which 
have been chosen for the illustration of this 
article are nearly all by leaders of the so- 
called American School, the success of 
which has been the feature of all recent 
European exhibitions. It is unfortunate 
that the limitations of space, and in some 
cases the difficulty of satisfactory reproduc- 
tion, have made it impossible to show here 
examples of the work of all those who have 
made the American School famous. Even 
in this limited showing, however, it is pos- 
sible to observe something of the individu- 
ality of the workers. For a very distinct 
individuality does exist in these prints. No 
one who follows the subject at all closely 
will fail to distinguish at a glance a 
Kasebier from a White, or a Day from a 
Steichen ; and there are several others 
whose work is just as characteristic — fairly 
good evidence, if evidence be needed, that 
photography, as these people practice it, is 
no longer a merely mechanical process. 

In conclusion, then, the position that we 
take is this: Art is not the result oi a 
medium, but is superior to all media and 
processes. A photographic portrait, or a 
photograph of any other subject, may be as 
absolutely a work of art as a painting or a 
statue. It is subject to the same general 
rules and should be judged by the same 
standards ; not by the taste of the moment, 
but by the great fundamental principles 
which have endured, and will endure, as 
long as Art itself. 





















The Revival of an Ancient Art 


A generation ago the making of stained 
glass windows was lamented as a lost art. 
Today the craft has attained a perfection 
and a popularity unknown for centuries. 
In reality it was not the art that had been 
lost, but the artists. The divorce that 
existed in those pre-Morris days between 
artist and artisan was fatal to excellence. 
The designing of windows was usually in 
the hands of convention-crusted employees 
of commercial firms. The few genuine 
artists who were working in this direction 
were out of touch with their material. 
They provided the design, with little heed 
of the way it would look when the work- 
men had executed it in glass. The in- 
fluence of oil painting had led to the 
virtual abandonment of the legitimate 
stained glass window in favor of painted 
windows. In the stained glass window 
the countless small pieces of colored glass 
that go to its making are colored in the 
melting pot ; in the painted window the 
color is not in the glass but on it, coming from 
enamels fused to the surface by heat. In 
the one case the pieces of glass are vir- 
tually the artist's pigments, which are put 
together in a framework of leads to form 
the picture ; in the other case they are a 
quasi-canvas, on whicli the pigment is to 
be applied. In actual practice, it is true, 
each method borrows something from the 
other. The greatest purist has recourse 
to painting for his flesh tones ; the most 
unregenerate devotee of the false idols of 
paint makes free use of glass untouched 
by brush. 

The true scope and necessary limitations 
of the art become clear when the technical 
process is understood. There is nothing 

complicated about it. The twentieth cen- 
tury American follows without important 
variation the simple methods of the French 
monk of eight centuries ago. The first 
requisite is the design. The artist makes 
a small water-color sketch to show the 
general design and color scheme, accom- 
panying it with detailed studies. From 
this two large drawings or " cartoons " 
are made, the exact size of the desired 
window. One cartoon shows where the 
" leads " will be placed — the thin strips of 
lead, hollowed on both sides and looking 
in a transverse section like the letter H, 
which form the framework to bind the 
pieces of glass together. Another draw- 
ing gives the size and shape of each piece of 
glass. This cartoon is cut intc its com- 
ponent pieces by a pair (or triplet) of three- 
bladed scissors, which leave between their 
parallel blades a space sufficient for the 
leads. These cut-out patterns are put to- 
gether again on a large glass easel, to 
which they are attached by wax, and the 
spaces between are blacked in, to give the 
effect of the leads. The easel is then 
placed against a window where the light 
can stream through it. The artist or his 
substitute replaces eacli paper pattern on 
the easel by a piece of glass of exactly the 
same size, cut from a sheet of glass of 
the color called for by the color sketch. 
The sketch is not followed slavishly ; ex- 
periment with the actual glass will suggest 
improvements. To a greater or less 
extent this stained glass is supplemented 
by painted glass, on which the colors are 
fired as in china painting. When all the 
pieces have been cut, they are transferred 
to the "leading" ilrawing ; the flexible 

The Booklovhrs Magazine 


From deilcn by IVilliam If^ilUl 


leads are twisted into shape and soldered 
at the joints, and a special cement applied 
to make the whole water-tight. The 
window is now complete, ready to be put 
in position, where it is made secure by 
copper wires fastened to the transverse 
bars of iron. 

Essentially this has been the method in 
use since the first noteworthy development 
of the art in France in the twelfth century. 
In the beginning both art and method 
sprang from the needs and limitations of 
the time, just as every later variation, for 
better or for worse, was the inevitable out- 
come of its changed day. That we have 


the art at all we must thank the builders 
of Gothic cathedrals, in which almost the 
whole wall surface was given up to win- 
dows. It was imperative to fill this win- 
dow space with colored glass, or else the 
interior would have been flooded with a 
garish light out of keeping with the whole 
spirit of medieval architecture. Glass in 
that day could be blown only in small 
pieces : it was necessary then to fasten 
many of these together to make a large 
window. Thus inevitably the mosaic of 
transparent glass took shape. The leads, 
a necessary evil, were turned to good ac- 
count by being given an artistic function — 


The Booklovers Magazine 

From Jfiicn Ai U'illiam tfillel 


to form the framework of the 
design. But medieval reH^ion 
tolerated art only as her hand- 
maiden. Mere beauty of ^olor, 
meaninglessly decorative, was not 
enough ; the window must tell 
a story, for the glory of the sr.ints 
and the edification of the faith- 
ful. With figures to draw and 
faces to characterize, the crafts- 
man felt his material inadequate. 
He had recourse to painting, at 
first only to give detail in the face 
or to help the modeling of the 
drapery, but finally, as the down- 
ward path grew steeper, without 
discrimination. A questionable 
blessing in the shape of large 
rolled and cast sheets of glass 
gave the brush free field ; oil 
painting and mural painting, then 
in the flush of their power, swept 
all the lesser arts in their train. 
Then came the Renaissance 
when all things Gothic were 
held in scorn as the work of 
barbarians. From the sixteenth 
century the art fell into decay. 
The vandalism of the Reforma- 
tion destroyed much of the finest 
work of the past ; the false ideals 
of the mural painters on glass 
forbade adequate replacement. 

It should have been obvious 
that the axioms of stained glass 
are as wide asunder as the poles 
from those of oil painting. The 
primary object of a stained glass 
window is to transmit light, 
modifying not obscuring it. 
There is no room for the realism 
of the opaque painting, no pos- 
sibility^ of solid figures. Per- 
spective and distance are equally 
out of the question. Imitation 
must be limited to suggestion. 
Glass, again, is a less neutral 
medium than oils. A blue which 
would harmonize perfectly with 
a red on canvas is a fatal neigh- 
bor in glass, seeming to over- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


spread the red, changing its hue 
and ahnost its shape. An even 
more essential point is the often 
neglected consideration of the 
relation of the window to its 
surroundings. An easel picture 
stands by itself ; a stained glass 
window is an integral part of the 
architecture, and should be subor- 
dinated to the general effect. 

Half a century ago this art 
awoke from the long slumber 
into which it had fallen. Gothic 
in its first birth, it shared in the 
resurrection of all things Gothic 
brought about by the medieval- 
mad romantic movement. The 
homage paid the past was often 
only too faithful — slavish imitation 
of eccentricities of drawing or lead- 
ing, naive in the thirteenth century, 
ridiculous in the nineteenth. Eng- 
land especially profited by the study 
of early work. William Morris 
preached many chapters of his gospel 
of honest craftsmanship in windows 
that were beautiful harmonies of 
color. Westlake and Holiday did 
notable work, much of it to be seen 
in this country. The leading practi- 
tioner of the revived art was Sir 
Edward I3urne-Jones, successful 
chiefly in charm of design and skill 
of draftsmanship. His coloring, 
however, is more neutral and sub- 
dued than either early example or 
today's taste approves. Of late 
years perhaps the most notable, 
though not the most commendable, 
innovation has been the work of 
that daring artist, Frank Brangwyn. 
His windows are too pictorial, but 
have a breadth and sweep of line 
and a rich vitality of undeniable 

Across the Channel stained glass 
windows are especially in demand 
for private houses. French artists, 
however, still fail to realize that the 
glory of glass lies in the crystal 
sheen of translucency, not in the false 

From de$ign by If^ilUam Jf^ilht 



Thh Booklovers Magazine 


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beauties of surface paint. The passing 
vagaries of French oil painting have ail 
been re-echoed in glass — straining after 
naturalism, echoes of Watteau shepherds 
and travesties of Japanese landscapes, 
wondrous fantasies where syniholist-clouds 
and poster-women run riot. Heretic 
though she is, France has coiitrihiitetl in 
one important way to the modern tendency 
to discaril painting even in figures. A 

Parisian artist has recently succeeded in 
obtaining very fine flesh effects by using 
layers of plain and colored glass fused 
together with powdered glass fluxed 

Americans may be justly prouil that the 
most notable share in the revival of the 
art has been taken b\' this countr\-. The 
advance has been in two directions, one 
parallel to tlie Hurne-Jones movement in 

The Booklovers Magazine 


England, the other along a path unblazed 
before. The more original development 
was the earlier. When, a quarter-century 
ago, John La Farge and Louis C. Tiffany, 
with their co-workers, endeavored to 
revive the art, they found themselves 
compelled to recreate it. They had 
resolved to discard as far as possible the 
use of painted glass. Unpainted, the glass 
they found to their hands was crude and 
weak in color. There was nothing to do 
but begin at the beginning and make 
glass to their liking. By reverting to 
the old process of making it in small 
quantities, and using heavier charges of 
colored oxides, they produced glass infi- 
nite in variety and rich in happy accidents 
of color. Opalescent glass, with its chang- 
ing hues and vivifying power, was an oppor- 
tune invention. For drapery effects they 
adopted the plan of rolling molten glass 
flat and twisting the edges with tongs, so 
that when cooled it showed a wide variety 
of flowing curves to choose from. Still 
another technical device was the use of 
plating, superposing one shade on another, 
thus opening the way to endless combina- 
tions of color. 

This wealth of material was turned to 
artistic advantage. Windows aglow with 
rich, radiant color made the crude futilities 
of painted enamel henceforth impossible. 
But there was danger in the very richness 
of effect. It tempted towards reliance on 
color alone and disregard of form. Too 
often the result has been careless drawing, 
to which not even the blaze of color can 
blind us. This glass shows to best advan- 
tage when used in purely ornamental work, 
like the early mosaics. For figure design 
it seems, in other than master hands, too 
vivid and realistic, lending itself to pictorial 
and poster effects. 

The present tendency in American work 
is to return to the methods which produced 
the glorious windows of the old French 
cathedrals. Antique glasses, imported from 
France and Germany, take the place of 
the newer American glasses, which, for all 
their first brilliancy, are often found less 
durable. The most prominent representa- 

tive of the new school is Mr. William 
Wiilet, of whose work some recent exam- 
ples are given here. Like many other 
workers in stained glass, Mr. Wiilet began 
as a portrait painter, but was impelled by 
his instinct for design to turn to decorative 
work. It is this feeling for design, joined 
with a subtle appreciation of color, that 
makes his work notable. It is not the 
least of t!ie lessons that may be learned 
from a study of the cathedrals of Char- 
tres or Rheims, where each window is felt 
to be a part, not a whole, built for its 
place in the complete design. 

The design for the Spirit of the Water 
Lily memorial window, in the home of 
Mr. George I. Whitney, of Pittsburgh, 
shows exquisite draftsmanship and mas- 
tery of symbolism. There is a haunting 
fascination in the face and figure of that 
young girl, on the brink of the unknown 
waters, pressing on without fear or hesita- 
tion, gazing in rapt, mystic reverie into the 
future. In the Alarriage of Isaac and Rebecca 
the artist had more scope for color, both 
in the gorgeous raiment of the chief actors 
in that old-world idyll and in the ornamen- 
tal accessories. 

The finest work of this new school is 
undoubtedly the window recently erected 
in the Third Presbyterian Church at Pitts- 
burgh, depicting the parable of The Wise 
and the Foolish Virgins. The background 
is the marble stairway leading to the palace 
where the marriage feast is being cele- 
brated. On the right are the five wise 
virgins, their lamps all trimmed and 
burning. First goes Faith, followed by 
Joy and Peace ; Pity and Surprise mourn 
the blindness of their foolish sisters. The 
five foolish virgins Mr. Wiilet has daringly 
typified by two figures — Remorse standing 
erect, and her dejected sister prostrated at 
the bend in the stairway. The masterly 
composition and the drawing of the single 
figures, the charm of the distant landscape 
bathed in silver moonlight, the glory and 
harmony of color, make this window one 
of the most notable of recent times. It 
bears brilliant witness to the vitality and 
promise of American art. 

From llir finling hy llrrm.inn Tor^i^lrr 


Wagner and His Music-Dramas 

By gustav kobbe 

At the Metropolitan Opera House the 
other evening, just before the curtain rose 
on a performance of Tann/iauser, one of 
the attaches of the estabUshment remarked 
to me that there seemed to be a good-sized 
audience "for an old opera." Yet this 
"old opera" was the work of a composer 
around whom but a quarter of a century 
ago there was still raging one of the fiercest 
musical wars ever waged, a man whom I 
myself had seen bustling about Bayreuth, 
and had heard making speeches before the 
curtain of his own theatre. 

But the attache of the Opera House 
was right. Tannhauser is an old opera, 
older than many operas that are now con- 
sidered old-fashioned — by twenty years 
older, for instance, than U Africaine — and 
older than 7^/^o/f//o and Trovatore. Tann- 
hauser was produced in Dresden in 1845. 
But though it has been before the public 
fifty-eight years, long enough to be ranked 
as a classic, no one thinks of it as such, or 
otherwise than as a work belonging to the 
modern school of music. Who, while 
listening to a performance of Das Rhein- 
gold or Die JValkiire, can believe that they 
were composed in Zurich, the former as 
long ago as 1854, the latter in 1856? To 
realize how far in advance of his age Wag- 
ner was, consider that when Tannhauser 
was brought out Mendelssohn still was 
composing those polished platitudes that 
made him for a long time the most popu- 
lar musician in Europe, and that he con- 
sidered himself called upon to give the 
Tannhauser overture at a Gewandhaus 
concert in Leipsic " as a warning example"; 
and that when Wagner was completing 
the score of Die JValkiire, Schumann, who 

declared that Wagner was " not a musi- 
cian," still was living. Die Walkiire is 
approaching its semi-centennial. Yet it is 
new every time it is heard. 

So is everything of Wagner's, from 
Tannhauser to Parsifal, His works stand 
just as much apart today as when they 
were first composed. Half a century has 
passed over some of them; Wagner him- 
self has been dead twenty years; yet his 
music-dramas still form the most advanced, 
and the most realistic, profound, and 
powerful expression of emotion in music 
which we have. As I write today, the 
most exciting topic in music is the impend- 
ing production of Parsifal at the Metro- 
politan Opera House. People are not 
coming to see it from all over the country 
simply because it is the first performance 
of the work outside of Bayreuth, but 
because they know that, although it was 

Illustraltd Dramatic News, London, 1877 



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The Booklovhrs Magazine 


brought out as long ago as 1882, they will 
hear a work as fresh, as new, as up-to- 
date — if I may be pardoned the expression 
— as if it had been composed but yesterday 
by a genius the equal of Wagner. 

He is to-day just as modern and just as 
commanding a figure as when he reached 
the goal of his ambition, and saw the doors 
of the Wagner Theatre at Bayreuth open 
for the first performance of his Ring of the 
Nihe/ung. Of all the composers who have 
been heard since Wagner's death only 
Richard Strauss appears to have obtained 
anything like a hold on the public. As 
with Wagner's music, his will not down, 
no matter what the Philistines say and 
write against it. In the technique of 
composition Strauss is Wagner's worthy 
successor; but his music does not thrill us 
like Wagner's, because he is not as lavishly 
endowed with the divine gift of melody. 
Every music-drama score of Wagner's 
is a weave of melodies — or leading motives, 
if you prefer that term — ar'^ 'f is woven 
with unerring skill about tne drama that 
is being enacted upon the stage. 

It is almost superfluous to point out that 
Wagner is the author of the dramas which 
he set to music. What he wrote are not 
librettos, or " books of the opera," in the 
ordinary sense. I believe it was Voltaire 
who said that what was too stupid to be 
spoken was sung. Wagner's dramas are 
proof against that sneer. They are real 
dramas. Written in alliterative, unrimed 
verse, the language sometimes strained or 

Kikeriki, Vienna, 1883 


The London Hornet, /S77 


involved, they nevertheless abound in poetic 
imagery, and, what is more to the point, 
they fairly palpitate with dramatic energy. 
I am of the opinion that, stripped of their 
music, they still would be found to be 
efifective acting plays. For these dramas 
are founded upon the primal impulses, the 
basic passions of our race. Siegmund and 
Sieglinde are borrowed from mythology. 
But you watch them in the first act of 
Die IP^alkiire, that wonderful act in which 
only three characters are introduced, yet 
which does not flag in interest for an 
instant, and you say to yourself : " These 
are my ancestors. This is the stock from 
which, in ages past, I have sprung. I 
understand their actions, their impulses. 
Barring the blood relationship, which is 
mythological license, there are men and 
women today who are meeting the same 
problem in the same way and, blinded to 
fate through their love, are going to their 


Thh Booklovers Magazine 



Wagner also shows his skill as a drama- 
tist in the wonderful atmosphere of reality 
which he creates as soon as the curtain 
rises. Leaving his IVIeyerbeerian opera 
Ricrizi out of consideration, his plots, 
with the exception of Die Afrisfcrsi>!<^cr\ 
are legendary or mythological. "Vet we 
feel that we are looking upon life — a life 
recalled from a remote past, but as real as 
our own. With Hriinnhilde's first barbaric 

Hojoti ho ! " we are ready to accept her 
as a reality ; while, as for Wotan, if he 
sometimes is a good deal of a bore, are 
there not still plenty like him ? Or take 
the purely hum.ui story of Die A/eisfersinger 

von Niirnher!^. Does it not 
perfectly reproduce the me- 
dieval life of that city with 
rare fidelity lightened by deli- 
cious humor ? 

Character drawing is an- 
I other strong point of Wagner 
as a dramatist. Every figure 
on his stage stands out from 
the rest. The moment Hun- 
dung enters, his towering 
form, his forbidding manner, 
his sombre visage cast the 
shadow of coming tragedy 
over the scene. Your in- 
stinct tells you that it is 
through him Siegmund will 
meet his doom. Take, for 
the opposite extreme, Hans 
Sachs in Die A/eistersinj^er. 
What an epitome of kindly 
humor and whole-souled 
philosophy! Then the stage 
settings which form such 
perfect surroundings for the 
action, they too are Wag- 
ner's creation, and are as 
minutely and graphically de- 
scribed in his stage directions 
as if they were parts of a 

Moreover, the fact that 
underlying each of Wagner's 
dramas there is a moral sig- 
nificance, that in each of 
them some problem of exist- 
ence is philosophically worked out with- 
out detriment to the dramatic action, 
adtls vastly to their effectiveness. Tann- 
hiiuser is saved irom \'enus, who is typical 
of evil passions, through the love of a 
pure woman, Elizabeth. Woman's insa- 
tiate curiosity wrecks Elsa's happiness. 
Bri'innhildc's self-immolation, and the 
return by her of the fateful Ring to its 
rightful owners, the Rhine daughters — 
causing thereby the race of the gods to pass 
away and the human era to dawn upon 
earth — is Wagner's dramatic summing up 
of Schopenhauer's Renunciation of the 
Will to Live. Through the four music- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


dramas of the cycle, from 
the theft of the Ring by 
Alberich to its return by 
Briinnhilde, the action works 
up to this chmax, which is 
the final scene of Gotterdam- 
merung. From first to last 
it advances with the porten- 
tious, undeviating tread of 
Greek tragedy. 

Isolde's "Love-Death" is 
a revival of the ancient creed 
by which a soul at death re- 
commits itself to illimitable 
space, there to meet and to 
be reunited with its kindred 
soul — in Isolde's case that of 
the dead Tristan , upon whose 
body she expires. In Die 
Meistersinger we have new 
ideals contending with, and 
finally triumphing over, the 
old. The former are typified 
in Walther von Stoltzing — 
Wagner himself; the latter 
in the old-fogyish Master- 
singers, and especially in the 
malignant Beckmesser — 
Wagner's enemies ; while 
Hans Sachs, who occupies 
middle ground, represents 
that enlightened conserva- 
tism which accepts the new 
without discarding what is 
worth preserving from among 
the old. 

Finally Parsifal presents us, in the form 
of drama wedded to music, Wagner's con- 
fession of religious faith. For this reason 
Wagner did not call his last work a music- 
drama, but a " Stage-Consecration Festival 
Play." The difference, however, is in 
name only, since Parsifal is in every sense 
a music-drama. It is not his masterpiece, 
as some, doubtless carried away by the 
rapturous atmosphere of Bayreuth, have 
claimed. Compared with the Ring, it 
lacks virility ; compared with Tristan, pas- 
sionate expression. But even so, it is a 
marvelous creation for a tone-poet in his 
declining years. 






FANTiN-LATouR ( TliB Flyipg DutchiTian) 

In it he again gives us a drama, effective 
as such, yet turning upon a moral problem ; 
full of the atmosphere of reality, and with 
characters instinct with life. Again and 
again it has been argued that Wagner has 
not in this work put Christ upon the stage, 
nor Mary Magdalen, nor the Last Supper. 
But if Christ and Mary are not specifically 
named in the cast, and the Last Supper is 
not so called in the stage directions, no 
one can see the performance of this work 
without recognizing Christ in the charac- 
ter of Parsifal, the Magdalen in Kundry, 
and the celebration of the Sacrament of 
the Holy Communion — even to the passing 


Thh Booklovers Magazine 

THt EVLMNG STAR (Taniihauser) 


around of the squares of bread, the jiour- 
ing out of the wine, ami the partaking of 
these hy the Knights of the Holy Grail — 
in the last scene of the first act and in the 
finale of the third. If Kundry, in the third 
act, washing the feet of Parsifal and drying 
them with her hair, is not Mary of Alag- 
dala anointing the feet of the Saviour, 
then why is the scene made directly appli- 
cable to the life of Christ by being called 
the " Charfreitag Zauber " (Good Friday 

No, Wagner's Parsifal, " enlighteruHl bv 
pity" and then redeeming the Hrother- 
hood of the Grail from the consequences 

of their leader's sin, is the 
Saviour symbolized on the 
stage. Kundry, at first the 
seductress, then the penitent, 
is the Magdalen. The two 
scenes which I have referred 
to are nothing less than the 
Sacrament of the Commu- 
nion. Having said as much, 
let me add that I never 
have heard these symbolic 
representations criticized as 
blasphemous, or even as 
irreverent, by any one who 
has seen a performance of 
Parsifal. On the contrary, 
the work visibly presented 
on the stage is calculated to 
deepen one's faith. 

Wagner the dramatist, as 
distinguished from Wagner 
the composer, hardly has 
received his deserts, and that 
is the reason why I have 
thought it wise to call atten- 
tion to the underlying truth, 
beauty, and realism in the 
dramas that form the founda- 
tions of his scores. What- 
ever the defects in diction, 
the drama is there in every 
case. It penetrates the mask 
of words, it makes itself felt 
even irrespective of the music. 
This great man — for in 
spite of personal foibles he 
was great in all that pertained to his 
art — never sacrificed an ideal for the 
sake of gain. An exile because of his 
participation in the Revolution of 1848 — 
the multiplicity of his activities was simply 
marvelous — and in the midst of grim pov- 
erty, he worked on scores which he knew 
to be so at variance with generally accepted 
canons that he never expected to see his 
music-dramas on the stage. He brooded 
long and faithfully over each work before 
he took up its writing and composition. 
Wcissheimer, one of the conductors of the 
Opera at Mayence, was an intimate friend 
of Wagner, antl saw him almost daily when 

The Booklovers Magazine 


he was living in Hiebrich, across the Rhine 
from Mayence, in 1862, and engaged in 
the composition of Die A/eisfersinger ; and 
he relates that during a visit of Hans and 
Cosima von Hiilow, Wagner explained to 
them in detail his plans for Parsifal, add- 
ing, with deep emotion, that it would 
probably be his last work. 

" Tears came to Mme. von Billow's 
eyes," writes Weissheimer. " There 
ensued a pause. I went softly out upon 
the balcony and Hans von Biilow joined 
me, whispering the prophetic words : 
However slight the hope and however 
slender the prospect that his plans will be 
realized, you nevertheless will see that he 
will reach his goal and complete Parsifal.' " 

Remember, this was in 1862. The poem 
of Parsifal was not published until 1877, 
the music of the first act was not sketched 
out until 1878, and not until 1882 was the 
work produced at Bayreuth. But Von 
Biilow's prophecy was realized. If, how- 
ever. Von Billow's words were prophetic, 
so were Wagner's. Parsifal was his Ultima 
Thule. For early in 1883 he died in 
Venice. The woman who wept at his 
bier, who cut off her long blond hair that 
he had loved, and pillowed his head upon 
it before he was lowered into his last rest- 
ing place, was that same Cosima, daughter 
of Franz Liszt, who had been moved to 
tears twenty years before in that little 
room in Biebrich. 

The fact has been overlooked that it is 
since the success of Wagner's music-dramas 
upon the stage that the revival of interest 

in folk-lore and legendary literature has 
occurred. Das Nibelungenlied is read in 
our own schools, not only in translations, 
but very frequently in the form of stories 
from the Wagner music-dramas of the 
Ring. Thus these Wagner dramas are 
becoming, in a way, as much a part of our 
literature as his scores have become a part 
of our great and rich musical heritage from 

He was a German of Germans among 
composers. His revival of the old German 
epics did much to stimulate German 
national pride and patriotism, and to make 
the new German Empire and German 
unity something more real than a mere 
compact among princes. Germany's vic- 
tory over France he celebrated with the 
Kaisermarsch, in which the Protestantism 
of the new realm was symbolized by his 
use of Luther's hymn, Eine Feste 'Burg ist 
Unser Gott, as the main theme. Wagner 
was in fact, like Bach, a Protestant among 
composers. In his music-dramas it is 
always a purely human sacrifice, not 
churchly absolution, which brings salvation. 
As in the old sixteenth century ballad, so 
in Wagner's drama, Rome rejects Tann- 
hauser; it is Elizabeth who saves him. 

There was something deeper than mere 
words, something far more profound than 
mere bars of notes, in whatever Wagner 
wrote or composed. 












Our National Survey 



The much-needed Reclamation law, 
enacted by the Fifty-seventh Congress, 
has been justly characterized as "the most 
important constructive legislation since the 
Reconstruction period." It marks the 
beginning of serious effort on the part of 
the general government to reclaim by irri- 
gation the vast arid region of the w^est, the 
great national reserve which constitutes 
about two-fifths of the land within the 
United States. 

General charge of the work is entrusted 
to the Secretary of the Interior, and he has 
consigned the reclamation service to the 
Geological Survey, a corps of scientific 
men primarily organized for scientific work. 
In doing so he has carried out the apparent 
intent of Congress, as evidenced by pre- 
vious laws charging this bureau with the 
gaging of streams, the survey of reservoir 
sites, and similar duties. The money avail- 
able for the reclamation service amounts to 
between three and four million dollars a 
year. The placing of the expenditure of 
such a sum in the hands of a body of men 
selected without any political bias is a rad- 
ical change in American administrative 
methods. It is the largest trust that sci- 
ence has ever had in America, and the 
Geological Survey is on trial before the 
public. That bureau is given every oppor- 
tunity to attain success. The funds are 
ample, public sentiment is favorable, and 
the law is liberal in tone. If the experi- 
ment proves a success, it may be the fore- 
runner of a general movement by which 

the collective business of the people, as 
carried on by the government, shall be 
altogether taken out of partisan politics — 
a plan for which there have been many 

The Geological Survey is the outgrowth 
of the ownership by the general govern- 
ment of extensive tracts of unoccupied land. 
Its work was at first confined to the 
"public domain," but now covers the 
whole country. Its principal work is 
defined by law to be the making of a geo- 
logic map of the United States; but before 
a geologic map can be made, some sort of 
a base must be available in order that mis- 
takes shall not be made in representing on 
the map the rocks and veins. The making 
of this base-map is in the hands of the 
topographic branch. The map is being 
made piece by piece in the form of atlas 
sheets. When completed the entire map, 
if the sheets were joined, would be of 
imposing dimensions — about half the size 
of an ordinary city square. 

Field surveys are necessary in each 

quadrangle" — the name given to a square 
degree of the earth's surface. In order 
that the various sheets may fit together 
these surveys must be made with great 
care, for a mile on the ground is repre- 
sented by only an inch, or a half-inch, on 
the map. The entire system of mapping 
is controlled by careful triangulation and 
by many determinations of latitude and 
longitude. Since triangulation involves 
making long sights from high points. 


The BooKi!ovERS Magazine 

mountain-climbing is a regular part of the 
topographer's work. Of thirty mountains 
in the western States above fourteen thou- 
sand feet in altitude, the heights of all but 
three were first determined by the present 
Geological Survey, or by its predecessors. 
Far up above the timber line, up indeed 
where the snow never melts, the topog- 
rapher sets up his instrument and waits 
while the minutes become hours, and per- 
haps the hours days, for the fortunate rift 
in the clouds or the brief minutes of clear 
sky at early sunrise or late sunset, when 
the far distant peaks will show above the 
valley mists. 

Within the great triangles, which are 
thus accurately laid down, lines are meas- 
ured, levels are run, and finally with the 
plane-table the whole area is carefully tra- 
versed and the details are plotted. The 
topographic map, as published, is that act- 
ually made on the ground, the field sheets 
being merely inked in and lettered by hand. 
The reproduction of the work is niechan- 

The finished map shows not only the 
roads, towns and land lines, the streams, 
lakes and seas, but also — by lines known 
as "contours," and usually printed in 
brown — the position and shape of each 
hill, and the distance above sea level of 
every point within the area. The rela- 
tion of such contour lines to the landscape 
is shown in the figure below. Each con- 
tour represents a line connecting all the 
points which are of the same altitude, and 
the altitudinal interval between contours is 
invariable on any map, though it may dif?er 
on different maps. As a result, steep slopes 
are shown by many contour lines near 
together, while the lines representing 
gentle slopes fall farther apart. In the 
illustration the sharp terrace along the 
stream is represented by three nearly par- 
allel contours, and from the figures it may 
be seen that the terrace is a hundred feet 

A good topographic map serves not only 
the geologist, but from it the hydrographer 

ical. In this way the greatest accuracy is figures the storage capacity of the lake 
obtained, and all possible errors in copying which might be made by constructing a 
are eliminated. certain dam ; the engineer determines the 

length of a proposed canal ; 
the railway builder deter- 
mines the approximate loca- 
tion of his line without the 
expense of making a prelim- 
inary survey. So well recog- 
nized is this value that, in 
several instances, railway and 
mining companies have vol- 
unteered to pay the entire 
cost of making such maps 
in specific areas, when official 
funds were not immediately 
available. Of the 3,025,000 
square miles of the United 
States, about thirty-one per 
cent. — 929,712 square miles 
— have been so far surveyed, 
though not everywhere on 
the same scale. 

Upon the completed topo- 
graphic map the geologist 
spreads colors to represent 
the areas underlain bv the 


The Booklovers Magazine 


Fhot-jgi ujti by (.hapnian 


rock formations ; and on the edge of 
the map, or on a separate sheet, he 
makes diagrams or "cross-sections," as 
they are called, which show the thick- 
ness and dip of each bed and the 
general structure of the region. By cus- 
tom, and by agreements brought about 
through the Congres Geologique Inter- 
national, the colors and symbols used on 
all official maps are the same, so that one 
does not need to know the language to 
read a German, French, Italian, or even a 
Japanese map. Blue, for example, is the 
color used for carboniferous rocks, which 
happen to be coal-bearing in most parts of 
the world. Green is quite as uniformly 
used for cretaceous formations. 

The uses of a geologic map are very 
numerous. By means of such a map and 
the accompanying structure-sections the 
deeper copper mines of the Lake Superior 
region were located far out beyond any 
known outcrops of the copper-bearing 
ledge, and in perfect confidence the min- 
ing companies spent in some instances one 

and even two hundred thousand dollars in 
sinking big working shafts to the ore. So 
regular is the dip of these particular beds 
that the engineers' estimates have time 
and again been found correct within a very 
few feet. In the South African gold field 
the mines known collectively as "the 
deeps," which will be yielding gold years 
after those located on outcr:ps have been 
abandoned, were in the same way located 
by means of geologic maps. 

Some years ago when the Northern 
Pacific Railway was selecting coal lands in 
the densely forested regions of Washing- 
ton, the geologist in charge, having meas- 
ured and calculated the dip, said: "Jim, 
take your drill crew over to section thir- 
teen and see if you (Jon't find coal about 
the middle of the section." Jim, who 
knew the geologist had never visited sec- 
tion thirteen, went ofif on what he consid- 
ered a wild-goose chase. When he arrived 
on the ground the deep cover of under- 
growth and soil, effectually precluding any 
examination of the rocks, increased his 

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The Booklovers Magazine 


disgust. He set to work, however, and in 
a short time the drill went into a good bed 
of coal, hundreds of tons of which have 
since been used to haul trains across the 
mountains. After that experience Jim 
would have drilled upward into a cloud if 
the geologist had told him to do so, in 
absolute confidence of tapping anthracite. 
Of course, it is not always possible, even 
with the best geologic map in hand, to 
locate mineral thus accurately, for the 
rocks themselves often change within very 
short distances. In many cases it is only 

samples obtained in the course of the sur- 
vey were ground down to thin sections and 
examined under the microscope. From the 
whole series of observations were plotted 
certain narrow belts within which the iron 
was predicted to occur. Although these 
belts were in places only a hundred feet or 
so across, in all the drilling which has since 
been done no ore has ever been found in the 
surveyed areas outside the belts indicated. 
The use of the dipping needle is, 
unfortunately, possible only in locating 
magnetic minerals. Contrary to popular 

possible to discriminate the areas within opinion the common ores of gold, silver, 
which ore will be found — if present at all copper, lead, and zinc have no magnetic 
— from those which offer no encourage- properties. In locating ores of these 

ment whatever for pros- 
pecting. This has been 
done with notable suc- 
cess in the Lake Superior 
region. Much of the iron 
land of that area is com- 
pletely covered by swamps 
or thickets. In the early 
days there were no roads, 
and all the travel was by 
means of canoes through 
the numerous lakes of the 
region. Over the port- 
ages the canoes were car- 
ried on men's heads and 
the camp outfit on their 
backs. It happens, for- 
tunately, that much of 
magnetic or is associated 


metals the geologist must 
carefully plot all outcrops 
both of vein matter and of 
country rock, and then 
from measurements of the 
dip and strike of the rock 
calculate the position of 
the vein in the covered 
territory. This work nat- 
urally takes him into the 
roughest country, since it 
is there that the most 
outcrops occur. Long 
tramps, dangerous climbs, 
and much hard physical 
labor are all in the day's 

work. Camp life under 
the iron is a wide variety of conditions, and travel 
with mag- in many curious fashions, fall to his lot. 
netic minerals, and that the remainder is Probably no division of the Survey has 

found only in connection with certain rocks more picturesque, albeit exacting and dan- 
which are fairly constant in each district, gerous work, than the Alaskan. Between 

In making the surveys, the country was 
laid off in half-mile squares and mapped by 
tramping along each boundary line. First 
came an axman, who cut a path through 
the brush ; next a compass-man, who kept 
the direction by means of a compass set by 
the sun, and the distance by counting his 
steps; last came the geologist, who broke 
off pieces from each rock ledge and recorded 
its location. He also made at short dis- 
tances observations with a dipping needle — 
a compass which points downward toward 
any body of magnetic mineral. The rock 

the lines of the official reports one may 
read many a tale of danger and heroism, 
and occasionally some member of the corps 
gives a vivid picture of the incidents of the 
work. The trip of the Brooks party in 
1902 from Cook Inlet to Mt. McKinley 
— which, with its twenty thousand feet of 
altitude, is the highest mountain in North 
America — and on to the Yukon at Ram- 
part, was the longest cross-country survey 
ever made in Alaska. Every one of the 
eight hundred miles traveled in those one 
hundred and five days had its peculiar 


The Booklovers Magazine 







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hardships, if not danger. The h'ttle party 
made its way without guides, and with no 
gh'mpse even of natives except at the 
crossing of the Xanana, through the low- 
land swamps with their terrible plague of 
mosquitoes, through Rainey Pass, along 
the front of the great Alaskan Range, 
over a beautiful high plateau with its 
herds of mountain sheep and moose — so 
tame that even the shot of a carbine failed 
to put them to flight— down to the Xanana, 
and finally through the dense thickets be- 
tween that stream and the Yukon. Many 
were the mountains climbed, for the party 
must survey as well as explore, and many 
were the swift, icy rivers forded or rafted. 
In one week five were crossed by rafting 
and six by buihiing bridges. Several times 
the topographer or the geologist became 
separated from the main party, and made 
a lonely bivouac under the spruce trees. 
Once the leader was lost from the party 

for two nights and three days, 
living in the meanwhile on hard- 
tack, ptarmigan (shot with his 
revolver and roasted over an 
open fire) and a little rice boiled 
in a tin can. In the latter part 
of the journey the horses began 
to succumb to the hardships of 
the trail and the endless attacks 
of mosquitoes. One by one 
they failed, and were shot, until, 
when the party caught the last 
steamer of the season going 
down the Yukon, only eleven 
of the original twenty pack-horses 

Probably no other hardship 
of the northern work equals 
that due to mosquitoes. Xhe 
soft blanket of damp moss offers 
an ever-present breeding ground, 
and night and day they harass 
both men and horses. Build- 
ing smudge fires and blanketing 
the horses afford only partial 
relief; and at times the horses 
go mad, charging off through 
the wilderness, oblivious of trees 
and branches, until utterly worn 
out they hopelessly drop their heads 
and patiently endure the suffering. Xhe 
men, more fortunate than the horses, are 
able to protect themselves to some extent by 
using mosquito-proof tents, heavy gloves, 
and hoods of mosquito netting ; but in all 
instrumental work, and in many other oc- 
cupations, they must work with hands and 
feet exposed to the biting of the insects. 
It is said that " strong men, after days and 
nights of almost incessant torment, at last 
break down and weep with vexation." 

Xhere is, however, a pleasant as well 
as a disagreeable side to the life, and 
Air. Hrooks has given a charming account 
of how George, " whose great ambition 
in life was to cook " and who "could not 
regard anything as fuel which did not re- 
quire splitting with an axe," achieved the 
following, in one of the most inaccessible 
points on the continent, with nothing 
better than green willow for fuel: 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Pea Soup 

Mountain Sheep a la George 

Rice Potatoes 

Mince Pie Stewed Apricots 

Johnny Cake 

Tea Cocoa 

All the pluck and daring of the explorers 
was called into requisition in the course cf 
another of the Alaskan expeditions — that 
of the Peters-Schrader party in 1901. 
The topographer in charge, W. J. Peters, 
proved himself so well fitted for northern 
exploration that he was chosen, on recom- 
mendation of the National Geographic 
Society, to take charge of the scientific 
work of the Ziegler Polar Expedition. This 
was quite as noteworthy a piece of explora- 
tion as any other made in America, and it 
reflected the highest credit on every mem- 
ber of the party. Starting from the White 
Horse in February, they traveled with dog 
sledges ten hundred and fifty miles to 
Bergman, near the Arctic Circle, camping 
on the way in light canvas tents, though 
the thermometer at times registered forty 

degrees below zero. In June, when the 
ice in the Koyukuk broke, a little river 
steamer carried them up the river to 
Bettles. From tiiis point was begun a 
journey of three hundred and fifty miles 
by canoe up John River, across the Endi- 
cott Mountains by a five-mile portage to 
the Anaktuvuk, and down it and the 
Colville River to the Arctic Ocean. This 
part of the journey was accomplished by 
August 18, topographic, surveying, and 
geologic observations being carried on 
along the entire course. From the mouth 
of the Colville a coast survey was made 
some hundred miles to the west. Since 
the season was then nearly gone, it became 
necessary to drop the work at this point 
and push for home. A trip of four hun- 
dred and fifty miles to Cape Lisburne was 
made along the coast in native sailboats 
made of skins. As the Cape was rounded 
the hearts of the party were cheered by 
the sight of smoke near the shore. The 
boat was quickly turned toward it, and 
soon the smoke was found to come from 
a belated steamer coaling for the final 
run to Nome. Thankfully the surveyors 

ii»' II7' m' u ur m* iJT' iS' iS" lor sr n' •>• or •>• tr <t> u' u* u* t- 7t' ti* 




Thh Booklovers Magazine 


climbed on board and said good-bye to the 
natives who had brought them so many 
miles along the wintry coast. In a few 
hours anchor was weighed, and then began 
the long return journey, terminating at 
Seattle, October 19th. 

In the course of this exploration four 
hundred and thirty-two miles of linear 
surveys were made, an important mountain 

range was crossed for the 
first time, and twenty-six 
hundred and forty square 
miles were mapped. A 
graphic representation of 
the length of the journey 
is given in the sketch map 
on the preceding page. 

Not all the work is 
exploratory. Much of it 
is in the relatively settled 
portions of the United 
States, and in developed 
mining camps as well as 
in those just discovered. 
The annual output of the 
mines of this country is 
now worth more than a 
thousand million dollars, 
and it is part of the work 
of the Survey to stimulate this development. 
To this end complete statistics are yearly 
collected from all of the sixty thousand 
producers, either by personal visit or by 
correspondence. The mines themselves 
and the mining camps are studied with 
the greatest care. The Mother Lode, 
the Comstock, Leadville, Butte, Cripple 
Creek, Bisbee, Tonopah, and very many 


The Booklovers Magazine 


others have been sur- 
veyed or are under survey 
.by this bureau. 

While the work is 
directed rather to the 
discovery and formula- 
tion of the general laws 
governing the origin and 
occurrence of ores than 
to the location of par- 
ticular beds, it has often 
been of the highest prac- 
tical and immediate 
benefit. In Cripple 
Creek the president of 
one of the largest min- 
ing companies stated last 
year that the survey 
made in the early history 
of that camp did it more 
good than any other one 


Photograph by Johnson 



thing which had ever happened — 
and in Cripple Creek, in the 
language of the West, " there's 
something doing all the time." 

Another pleasing recognition 
of the practical value of the 
work was the naming of one of 
the largest ore-carriers on the 
Great Lakes the dairies Richard 
Van Hise, in honor of the chief 
of the division which studied and 
mapped these bodies of iron ore, 
the greatest in the world. 

Not only the topographers and 
the geologists, but the hydro- 
graphcrs as well, come into con- 
tact with a wide variety of 
conditions of work and of 
interesting problems. For the 
present the hydrographic branch 
is mainly engaged in preliminary 
studies of the water resources of 
the country, and in making 
estimates of the cost of the var- 
ious engineering works by which 
these resources may be turned to 
account in affording suitable 
water for city supply, in the 
generation of power, or for 

The Booklovers Magazine 


irrigation. It is necessary, first 
of all, to know how much water 
is available; and to that end the 
energetic chief engineer, Mr. 
Newell, has for several years 
been establishing hundreds of 
gaging stations along the streams 
of the whole country. At these 
stations the depth of water is 
determined day by day. It is 
necessary also to measure the rate 
of flow, in order to calculate the 
amount of water which is going 
past the station. One method 
of doing this is by means of 
the current-meter, to observe 
which the hydrographer has often 
to work from a swinging platform 
hung from a cable stretched 
across the stream. 

At points where it is proposed 
to use underground waters it is 
often necessary to put down 
drill holes, and a number of 
complete drill outfits are kept 
busy in this work. The water 
which such a well will yield is 
occasionally determined by a 
pumping test, in which a steam 
pump in connection with a measuring weir 
is employed. 

Though so recently established the 
reclamation service has already begun 
the construction of certain large dams, 
and has under consideration among other 
projects a six-mile tunnel for diverting the 
Gunnison River in Colorado, so that the 
waters may be used in irrigation. In 
the planning and carrying out of these 
great works the officers of the service 
will have unexampled professional oppor- 
tunities, not only because of the size of 
the works themselves, but on account of 
the freedom given the engineers in plan- 
ning and building them. The supervising 
engineer will report to a board of consult- 
ing engineers, each of whom is thoroughly 
familiar with the difficulties of such work, 
instead of having to win, as in private 
work, the approval of a board of directors 
largely unfamiliar with his difficulties, and 

Photograph by Lippincott 


concerned mainly with completing the 
work at the lowest possible cost. 

It has been estimated that ultimately 
sixty to one hundred million acres, which 
are now worth perhaps fifty cents an acre, 
will be converted by irrigation into farming 
and orchard land worth from fifty dollars 
to five hundred dollars per acre. The law 
carefully provides that this shall be sold in 
small lots to actual settlers, so as to ac- 
complish the main purpose of the whole 
work — homes for our rapidly-increasing 
population and opportunity for the young 
men and the children equivalent to that 
which the older generations enjoyed. 

The topographer, geologist and hydrog- 
rapher make their observations and collect 
their data throughout a wide field, but field 
work covers only a portion of the activities 
of the Survey. The study of the material 
collected requires extensive laboratories, 
and its proper presentation necessitates a 



The Booklovers Magazine 


force of photographers, draftsmen, artists, 
engravers, and printers. Photographs taken 
in the field must be developed, and enlarged 
or reduced, and blue prints and drawings 
must be reproduced. So perfect is the work 
of the photographic laboratory that black 
and white prints of large size are furnished 
at any time within fifteen minutes of the 
receipt of the drawing or blue print. 

Geologic maps make difficult printing. 
Minute areas must be carefully depicted or 
the map loses its chief value. The Survey 
maintains its own map-printing establish- 
ment, and maps are made on which are 
printed as many as twenty-eight colors. 
Some appear only in very small dots or hair- 
like lines, but each must register perfectly. 

The laboratories of the Survey are 
equipped not only for the analysis or assay 
of every rock and common mineral, but for 
making determinations of the most minute 
quantities of the rarest elements. In them 
also rocks can be manufactured artificially, 
which is one way of determining the exact 
conditions under which rocks are formed 
in nature. At present the whole series of 
feldspars is being made up and crystallized ; 
and it seems likely that results of high scien- 
tific value will come from the experiment. 

From the foregoing view of the present 
working-organization one naturally takes a 
retrospective look at the history and per- 
sonnel of the Geological Survey. As has 
been mentioned, it is the outgrowth of the 
ownership by the people at large of exten- 
sive tracts of unoccupied land. As early 
as Jefferson's administration, and at his 
suggestion, Congress appropriated money 
for the exploration of the Great West. 
The Lewis and Clarke expedition was the 
first of a long series sent out to determine 
the extent and character of the public 
domain. Up to 1867 these expeditions 
were, in the main, military or geographical 
reconnaissances. A geologist was attached 
to the party to make such a report as cir- 
cumstances might permit. At the close of 
the Civil War more systematic study of 
the western country was taken up, and 
was continued through the era of Pacific 
Railroad building. A number of separate 

organizations were created to carry on this 
work. Of these the principal ones came to 
be known as the King, Powell, Wheeler, 
and Harden Surveys. Starting under dif- 
ferent auspices, and with somewhat differ- 
ent purposes, they eventually came into 
conflict, with the result that there was 
much confusion and some duplication of 
work. In 1878 Congress referred the 
whole problem of the exploration and sur- 
vey of the Territories to the National 
Academy of Sciences, with instructions to 
report a plan of operation. The plan 
formulated by the Academy, and adopted 
by Congress, involved the consolidation of 
all the existing surveys into one organiza- 
tion under the name of the United States 
Geological Survey. 

By appointment of President Hayes, in 
March, 1879, Clarence King became the 
first director of the Survey. He was a 
man of parts, an experienced executive, 
and a mining engineer of the highest 
reputation. While Mr. King's greatest 
reputation is founded chiefly on his work as 
a mining engineer, he made many highly 
important contributions to pure science. 
In his early years he discovered the first 
glacier found in the United States; and a 
short time before his death he published a 
paper in which the estimate of the earth's 
age, as deduced by Lord Kelvin from ter- 
restrial refrigeration, was given greater 
precision. In 1872 he exposed the great 
Arizona diamond fraud ; and it is said that 
' his prompt action and unshakable integ- 
rity alone averted a financial disaster which 
threatened to rival that of the Mississippi 
Bubble." For one year he devoted to the 
new survey all his well-known talent and 
energy, and then, having organized the 
work, he resigned to enter the more lucra- 
tive field of private practice, a field he 
occupied with distinction until his death 
in igoi. 

Mr. King was succeeded by Major J. 
W. Powell, the intrepid veteran of the 
Civil War, so well known for his daring 
exploration of the Grand Canyon of the 
Colorado — a nine-hundred-mile passage 
through the fearsome unknown, under- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

taken and carried through in the face of 
difficulties comparable only to those met 
by Stanley when he disappeared into the 
Dark Continent to find Livingstone. 
Major Powell, like Mr. King, had been 
director of one of the organizations 
which were merged in the present Sur- 
vey, and he brought to the work highly 
trained executive ability as well as a deeply 
philosophic mind. His peculiar talent lay 
in the ability to classify facts, and so care- 
fully did he arrange the work of the Survey 
in all its departments, even to the form of 
accounts, that its growth since has been 
through natural development rather than 
by radical change. Under his long admin- 
istration, extending from 1881 to 1894, 
the work of the Survey grew greatly both 
in scope and in the confidence of Congress. 
It was in this period that its field was ex- 
tended from the West to the whole of the 
United States, and that studies looking 
toward the assumption by the general gov- 
ernment of the duty of irrigating the arid 



lands were taken up. These irrigation 
investigations and projects proved to be in 
advance of public sentiment, and the ensu- 
ing conflict did much to embarrass him in 
the last years of his administration. In 1894 
Major Powell retired from the director- 
ship to concentrate his energies on the 
more congenial duties of superintending the 
Bureau of Ethnology, with which he had 
been connected since 1879. He remained 
with that bureau until his death in 1902. 
The successor of Major Powell, Charles 
D. Walcott, the present director, has 
grown up in the service, having joined the 
corps as assistant geologist during the first 
field season of the present organization. 
He was long known mainly as a paleon- 
tologist — one of those whom the Philistine 
sees devoting their lives to " counting the 
stripes on a trilobite's tail." But this 
young paleontologist has shown himself to 
be an executive of the highest order. His 
ability, called into service in the reorgan- 
ization of the National Museum, has been 
further recognized in his 
selection for the secretary- 
ship of the Carnegie Insti- 
tution. Under his adminis- 
tration the Survey has grown 
very rapidly in scope, in 
number of workers, and in 
resources. The Alaskan 
division has been organized, 
the divisions of hydrology 
and hydro-economics have 
been established, and the 
reclamation service has been 
founded. The corps now 
includes nearly seven hun- 
dred employees, and all, 
except temporary assistants, 
are under civil service rules. 
The total annual appropri- 
ation at present amounts to 
$1,377,470, aside from the 
funds available for the re- 
clamation service. The 
attractive features of the 
service have drawn to it 
some of the most experienced 
American engineers, and 

Photograph by Moort 




The Booklovers Magazine 


many ambitious and capable young men, 
who see here an opportunity for permanent 
and agreeable work. 

It has been common for many years to 
bewail the fact that America has made no 
contributions to pure science. An impar- 
tial review of the facts of the case would 
probably show that American contribu- 
tions to pure science have been, and are 
now, of great importance both in number 
and in quality. The reverse appears true 
because of the great number of applica- 
tions of science to practical purposes made 
in this country. Be that as it may, the 
chemical and physical laboratories of the 
Geological Survey illustrate excellentl\- the 
effort made throughout the work of the 
bureau to add to knowledge of the funda- 
mental laws of nature, as well as to apply 
them. As a result of the many analyses 

made, important refinements 
in methods of analysis have 
been developed, and out of 
the work have grown also 
Mr. Clarke's papers on the 
constitution of the silicates; 
those of Mr. Barus on the 
compressibility of liquids and 
the mechanism of viscosity ; 
those by Mr. Hallock on the 
flow of solids, and the various 
papers on high temperature 
observations which afJord 
almost the only data for the 
study of certain phases of 
volcanic action. The hydro- 
graphic branch is not only 
concerned with building 
dams and digging canals, but 
studies in detail the flow of 
underground waters, from 
both the practical point of 
view, as exemplified by Mr. 
Darton's work on the arte- 
sian waters of the great 
plains, and from the scientific 
point of view, as illustrated 
by Professor Schlicter's 
mathematical investigations. 
In the geologic branch 
not only formations are dis- 
and mapped, but the whole 
which correlations may be 
made is fully discussed in a series of 
correlation essays more complete than 
anything previously attempted. In the 
pre-Cambrian work Mr. Van Hise has 
mapped iron ores, and has produced a 
treatise on metamorphism which is the first 
comprehensive attempt to determine the 
principles of that difficult subject. From 
the practical study of igneous rocks a 
serious attempt to build up a classifica- 
tion, on a quantitative chemical basis, has 
recently been matie, antl of the four joint 
authors of the system three are, or have 
been. Survey men. 

From the study of mining regions 
resulted the simultaneous formulation by 
Messrs. Emmons, Weed, and Van Hise of 
the doctrine of secondarv enrichment. 

basis upon 

The Booklovers Magazine 


This was at once a curious psychological 
phenomenon — three independent discov- 
eries of the same thing — and a law of very 
great scientific and practical value. 

In attempting to map and interpret the 
boulders and drift which the glaciers scat- 
tered over the northern portion of the 
United States, Professor Chamberlin has 
been led from the smaller problems of the 
glacial period to the general one of all past 
climates. Thus he was led to consider 
the early condition of the earth; and he 
has not only thrown serious doubt upon 
the nebular hypothesis, but by construc- 
tive work of a high order has developed 
the alternative meteoroidal hypothesis. 

At first the work of the Survey was 
confined to the so-called public land States 
and Territories of the West. Later its 
work was extended to the whole of the 
United States; and in the recent era of 
expansion it has at times been called upon 
for work outside this country. Thus, Mr. 
Cross has made studies of the volcanoes of 
Hawaii. Mr. Hayes accompanied the Nica- 
ragua Commission, and later, with Messrs. 
Spencer and Vaughan, was detailed for 
geologic reconnaissance work in Cuba. So 
closely did geologic work follow the skir- 
mish line in the Philippines that Mr. 
Becker was actually under fire. Mr. 
Willis is now exploring China under the 
auspices of the Carnegie Institution, and 
Messrs. Becker in South Africa, Emmons 
in British Columbia, Weed and Hill in 
Mexico, and Lindgren in Australia, have 
made observations of great importance 
while examining mines, on leave of ab- 
sence. Under the law controlling the Sur- 
vey, no member can have any personal 
interest in mineral land, nor execute private 
surveys. This, while a wise provision, 

entails occasional hardship ; and from time 
to time members of the force, tempted by 
an of?er of two or three times their official 
salary, have resigned to enter consulting 
practice. In general the attractions of 
the service, with the opportunity to make 
technical studies under the most favor- 
able circumstances, have proved stronger 
inducements than the increased pay, and 
a thoroughly loyal corps has been brought 
together and maintained. 

The study of the earth has always been 
stimulated by two fundamental passions of 
humanity — cupidity and curiosity. The 
first we dignify by calling it the desire to 
develop our natural resources; the second 
is the foundation of science, the mainspring 
of the effort to increase the sum of human 
knowledge. In the service of these primal 
instincts the geologist travels on foot 
through the villages of the East, by horse 
across the Ozark Mountains, by wagon 
train over the prairies, on pack-mules high 
up in the Rockies and the Cascades, with 
a naptha launch among the islands of the 
Alaskan archipelago, with dog sledges 
over the limitless snowfields of the frozen 
North, in a frail canoe down the swift 
Alaskan rivers, in risky native sailboats 
along the barren coast, in the iron bucket 
of the aerial tram simulating the eagle's 
flight to the high rocky ledge where some 
mine pours forth its wealth, or in rubber 
coat and with candle down into the deep 
places of the earth. From the sheltered 
valleys of New England to the barren 
sandy wastes of the Painted Desert, from 
the palmetto groves of the South to the 
icy capes that look off over the lonely 
stretches of the Arctic Ocean, the plane- 
table and the hammer are carried by these 
pioneers of civilization and science. 

From the painting hy ff'interhalur 



' ftp i i| 

By Clara Morns 

Now and again the papers announce 
that to some startled member of the impe- 
rial Hapsburg family has appeared that 
"ghostly woman in white," whose dread 
presence always signifies death or disaster 
to a Hapsburg. Less frequently we hear 
of the appearance of "the black-robed 
ghost " of the Hohenzollerns — presagmg 
death to one of that imperial family. But 
there is another ghost in Europe — impe- 
rial, too — whose occasional appearance 
causes no thrill of dread ; whose trailing 
draperies of crape drag after them neither 
misfortune, shame, nor death; but pallid, 
silent, tragic, she haunts the city that 
saw her triumph and her fall. This third 
imperial ghost is Eugenie, whose stately 
head has been thrice crowned — for has she 
not worn the crown of Beauty, the crown 
of France, and, alas, a crown of Sorrow? 

Whenever I see her name I recall the 
funny, bristly, old Frenchman, ex-soldier, 
who used to be over in Fourth Avenue, 
and whose greatest boast was that, stand- 
ing sentry at the gates that day, he had 
been the first one at the palace to hail her 
Empress, on her return from that almost 
incredible drive to Notre Dame. 

For a favored few this old man built 
such riding habits as no tailor in New 
York could approach, furiously declaring 
each to be the last ; vowing it did not pay 
him, and he would only work on liveries 
and uniforms. Still, I ventured there. 
Though I had been warned, " He will not 
hear you out 1" still I ventured. And surely 
the stars in their courses must have fought 

for me, for even as I entered the hallway I 
faced an unusually fine picture of Eugenie, 
and, knowing nothing of the old man's 
weakness, I said : " Oh, what a lovely pict- 
ure of the loveliest head in the world! " 

The old man, who had frowned at me, 
suddenly sprang forward, caught my hand, 
pressed his bristly white mustache upon it, 
and cried : " To zee zanctum ! A-ah ! to 
zee zanctum !" " Madame I" and at that 
cry his wiry, black-eyed, little madame had 
hurried forth and received an order, " Open 
zee zanctum — at once, please ! " I was 
too nervously anxious about my own afifair 
to wonder at this order, and while still 
upon the stairs I faintly asked if he would 
please make me a habit ; and with his 
shoulders at his ears, with his eyes 
upturned, with the extravagance of his 
nation, he declared: "Mademoiselle, I 
will make you zee habit Amazone while I 
shall live ! I will make zee habit of your 
father an' your mother!" And then I was 
waved into the sanctum, and I said," Oh !" 
and stood still, and he said "A-ah ! a-ah !" 
and skipped like a young lamb. 

The walls, the mantel, the tables, the 
desk — look where you would, you found 
pictures, and yet pictures, of his adored 
Empress — never "Ex" to him! Taken 
alone, with the Emperor, with the Prince 
Imperial, with both of them I Some funny 
to the laughing point, for many were taken 
in the early days of photography and while 
the fashion in street dress would have made 


From ihi painiinf by FlanJrtm 

The Booklovers Magazine 


the angels weep. Two, though, were in 
riding habit, standing, and oh, showing 
such sweeping lines of beauty, from splen- 
did shoulder to slender foot, fine and true 
as the lines of an Etruscan vase. In one 
large picture she wore the crown ; and 
there was a haughty sadness on her face, 
such as may have been there when the 
Castiglione made the third obeisance before 
her, while with bold e\es she paid her 
homage to the Emperor alone. 

There were souvenirs of many kinds in 
a locked cabinet ! From among them he 
brought me a large gold locket, and open- 
ing it reverently he showed me a morsel 
of heavy white satin with a stripe in it, 
and some silver brocading. Tears were in 
his eyes as he murmured, " Her wedding- 
dress, mademoiselle ! Oh, yes, it is one 
true scrap — zee you here ! " and he pro- 
duced a list of names of those through 
whose hands the bit of satin had passed to 
his. "And now she wears that!" said 
he, pointing excitedly to a bit of black 
crape in the opposite side of the locket, 
with theone word " Chiselhurst " engraved 
beneath it. 

Ah, that pathetic scrap of Beauty's wed- 
ding gown ! It was like finding a faintly 
glimmering trace of almost impalpable pow- 
der shaken from the wing of a butterfly ! 

Another picture, taken in very early 
married days, was gentle in expression ; 
but it, too, was very sad; and I asked: 
" Do you suppose she was grieving for the 
lover she had lost?" The old man flung 
wide his arms and cried: "Ah, I see, 
mademoiselle has zee love for my Empress ! 
Yes — yes! or why shall she remember zatt 
— while all the world else forget it — eh ? " 
And he excitedly rubbed his head the wrong 
way until each short white bristle stood 
straight on end, and made him look like 
an angry old cockatoo. 

Then swiftly he returned to my ques- 
tion, and told me that' he did not believe 
that the beautiful Eugenie had grieved sim- 
ply over the loss of her lover, since she was 
rather cold to her adorers, but that she had 
suffered cruelly from her sister's treachery 
— that sister whom she had admired, whom 

she had loved to the verge of idolatry ! and 
that the wooing of an Emperor might well 
be as a balm to her hurt pride. " But for 
the heart ? — well, I do not know ! It was 
vere true that zee Empress was sad — aye, 
even for one little minute — one leetle, 
1-e-e-t-l-e minute on that ver-y day of her 
wedding ! " 

He said that from the first the people 
had been won by her beauty, but when 
they had brought the immense sum of 
money they had raised among themselves 
— the price of the splendid jewels they 
wished to confer as their wedding gift — 
she had lifted her stately head, and all her 
face was gentle as a little child's as she 
entreated those in authority that not one 
jewel should be bought for her, but that 
the money should go back to them in the 
form of a great hospital, to be built as soon 
as might be, where in sad and suffering 
hours they might find free shelter, rest, 
and care, and so be reminded of her love 
for them ! She had her will, and the com- 
mon people bowed down and worshiped 
her, their vanity flattered by her beauty, 
their hearts touched by her thought of 
them — while quickly the Emperor saw the 
political value of the gracious act, and 
smiled on it and her ! 

And so the old man went on with his 
rhapsody. Those market-women ! Did 
mademoiselle know of those creatures, who 
never yet kept in when they wanted to get 
out, or kept out when they preferred being 
in ? No ? As in the hate they make of 
themselves a terror, so in the love they 
made of themselves a nuisance — on that 
great day of wedding ! As the bride wears 
no jewel of their giving, they appoint a com- 
mittee to select and purchase some flow- 
ers, and to see that they reach the palace 
promptly, to be a greeting to the Empress ! 
After that — well ! they surge, they shout, 
they are everywhere — particularly where 
there is a cordon to be broken! And through 
all the thunder of the cannon, the chiming 
of the bells, the blare of the trumpets, the 
snapping of the flags, the trampling of the 
horses, the shouting of the crowds — through 
all and everywhere were heard, high and 


The Booklovers Magazine 

shrill, the piercing cries of les dames des 
haltes, drunk with joy and maddened 
with excitement ! 

Then the roar in the distance increased 
in volume, and presently at the palace gates 
was seen the splendid procession, like a 
great serpent dragging its glittering length 
slowly back; and when in the imperial car- 
riage the people caught a glimpse of that 
white loveliness, from thousands of throats 
there came first a long A-a-ah ! like a 
sigh — then broke the hurricane of vivas ! 

And she was superb ! No shrinking 
— no gaucherie .' Smiling but stately, she 
might have been the daughter of a hun- 
dred kings ! So, robed in white, half 
veiled in lace, all fragrant with orange 
blossoms, with the glitter of diamonds and 
the milky gleam of pearls crowning her 
lovely brow, she entered the palace a 
bride, and the Empress of France ! 

And those market - women ? They 
boiled over ! They yelled and pushed and 
crowded into the palace gardens. They 
screeched and screamed, "The Empress!" 

L'Imperatrice ! " until at last a window 
opened and Eugenie stepped out on the 
balcony. Ever eager to please, she held 
in her hands a great mass of the violets the 
market-women had sent her. An officer 
was at her side at first, but she stopped 
suddenly and the gentleman went back — 
perhaps her train or veil had caught on 
something — so for a moment she stood 
alone, and in that moment like a mask 
fell down all the smile — the light ! The 
very life seemed to go out of that so perfect 
face ! One instant she leaned her head 
wearily against the window frame, the eyes 
cast down like a beautiful Mater Dolorosa 
— and then her sadness creeps, chill-like, 
over every one, as might a puf? of damp 
air from a tomb ! 

Many crossed themselves and said low, 
" It is an omen ! " And then, all suddenly, 
an old fishwife shrieks out at those of the 
committee: "Pigs! Idiots! It is the 
flower of sorrow you have sent her!" 
While quick another raves out: " It is the 
color of mourning that you send the bride 
of our Emperor ! Violets — purple violets 

— to a bride ! Pigs ! Idiots ! Devils ! 
It is an omen — a sign of evil!" And 
then the fight begins! Oh, mon Dieu ! 
they are terrible! They tear each other 
like wild beasts ! The soldiers, the gen- 
darmes, they try hard to make order. 
They fail. Then a voice above us, clear 
and gentle, says, " Oh, gendarmes, don't 
hurt them ! " 

The idea that any soldier on earth could 
hurt a dame des halles was so funny that 
everybody stops the fight to laugh ! Then 
they laugh and laugh, and wipe of? the 
blood, and slap the gendarmes, and say, 
" Don't hurt us, messieurs — don't!" and 
they dance and shout; and the beautiful 
Empress, she stands by the Emperor and 
bows, and throws some violets to the 
people who are not of the market-women 
stamp, and all cry, " Vive I'lmperatrice !" 
And she smiles and smiles, and so retires I 
But that old witch was right — aye, though 
the violet was the flower of the Bona- 
partes, it was the flower of sorrow, not 
fit to send a bride. It was an omen, 
and, given at the Tuileries, it pointed to 
Chiselhurst ! 

And ascending the throne had not 
afllected the memory of the Empress in 
the slightest degree, the old man declared. 
Many stories he told tending to show her 
kindly remembrance for the friends she 
had risen so far above. One was amusing. 
It was the case of a young woman whom 
a reckless father had dragged down from 
elegance and comfort to that cruel state 
of poverty where effort is made to keep 
up appearances in spite of an empty 
stomach. Through one in her personal 
service Eugenie had gently and depreca- 
tingly suggested that she would like to do 
something for her former friend — to make 
her a gift perhaps — for the sake of old 
times. She must have been greatly taken 
aback by the almost frantic eagerness 
with which the young woman seized 
upon the offer. Oh, yes, yes I wrote she, 
she had a wish — one great overwhelm- 
ing wish ! If that could be gratified, 
she would never ask anything of anybody 
again — never ! Poverty ? Anxiety ? Bah ! 

From the painting by JVinttrhalter 



Thh Booklovers Magazine 

They were nothing ! Life could give no 
greater joy if, for one transcendent moment 
— in her own street, standing before her 
own home — she could see one of the 
imperial carriages ! 

And that was why, one week later, 
every resident, man or woman, in that 
street so narrowly escaped death by apo- 
plexy ; for, said my excitable old man, it 
was about three of the afternoon when a 
splendid equipage had appeared in the 
street. Some had declared to him it was 
" a chariot sustained by clouds," but he 
had preferred the more conservative version 
which placed great stress upon the beauty 
of the horses. This marvel of painted 
crowns, and coats of arms, and glittering 
glass and varnish, stopped suddenly before 
No. — , and down to common earth there 
stepped a superb creature, with silken 
calves and splendid raiment, who advanced 
haughtily and placed in the trembling hands 
of the almost groveling concierge an en- 
velope of such size, such whiteness, and 
such perfection of seal as had never been 

known in Rue before. Then the 

vision returned to his place ; there was a 
whirl, a glitter, a splendid blur at the 
corner, and the imperial carriage dis- 
appeared, followed by shrieks of laughter 
from the upper chamber of No. — , where 
the favored young lady was laughing and 
choking her way through as pretty a fit of 
hysterics as ever tortured nerves brought 
to woman. When she was calm enough, 
she opened the note and read : " Your 
wish is granted, my friend. An imperial 
carriage stops at your door. It is empty, 
cherie, but in that respect it is like too 
many imperial honors ! " 

One might think that this old man, 
being French and of the common people, 
was exaggerating the beauty of the 
Empress ; yet one whom the worKl re- 
garded as bitterly cynical, who had been 
secretary of our legation at Paris, described 
her to me in this fashion : 

There were few women of high social 
position at that time who looked their best 
by daylight ; but Eugenie, always beautiful, 
was never so radiantly lovely as when riding 

or driving in a blaze of sunlight. The 
world well knows how she favored all 
Americans at her court ; and it came 
about by chance, and by her gracious con- 
descension, that once 1 escorted her to 
her carriage and stood a few moments at 
her side. And now 1 see her as clearly as 
I saw her then. She was greatly addicted 
to wearing all the varying tones of lavender ; 
but one shade of mauve — a pinkish mauve 
— she seemed passionately fond of. She 
wore it that day. The sun was shining 
brilliantly ; the air "seemed full of that 
^aiete, that suppressed excitement, pecu- 
liar to Paris. The Empress' gown was 
of a transparent stuff women call ' organ-* 
die ' — a white ground with a wonderfully 
natural-looking flower on it. At home in 
America we call it ' blue flag,' but in 
France they call it ' fleur de luce ' or 
fleur de lis,' symbole de V honneur virginal 
de la France! Then this thin flowered 
stuff was worn over an under-slip of mauve 
silk — there seemed to be yards and yards 
of it ; it billowed all about her and fairly 
filled the open landau. 

" Her slender little feet rested on a 
cushion, and they were gleaming in mauve 
silk and narrow-strapped, open sandals of 
black satin. From the vague, rosy-purple 
mass of drapery the clear lines of her 
stately body rose; round waist, superb 
shoulders, queenly head, the pale blond 
hair crowned with a bonnet composed 
entirely of violets, a great bunch of violets 
upon her breast ; and over all a tent-like 
sunshade of mauve satin, flounced all over 
with white lace, lined with white silk; 
while cunningly between mauve-outside 
and white-inside was stretched a pink silk 
inner lining, so that when the sunlight 
struck fairly upon the parasol an evanes- 
cent pearly-pink tint fell upon the fair face 
beneath it. And when the great open 
landau rolled swiftly toward the Hois, it 
was as if the carriage was full, filled with 
the plumy extravagance of the lilac's bloom 
— the poignant perfume of violets massed 
beneath the loosely petaled opulence of the 
purpled fleur de luce ! From this tremu- 
lous mass of perfumed bloom her lovely 

The Booklovers Magazine 


face smiled forth, as though the prodigah'ty 
of Spring had been personified in her! " 

And this from a bitter and hardened 
man, who had seen her many times and 
knew her comparatively well ! Both men 
were much moved when they spoke of the 
terrible misfortune and sorrow that had 
rome to the beautiful woman, little dream- 
mg that she was yet to sink to lower 

Photograph by 'Downey 


depths of anguish ; for at tliat time, though 
uncrowned and widowed, she still lived, 
loved, hoped, and aspired inthepersonof her 
princely son, that promising young Louis ! 

Ah, poor Beauty! She was an unhappy 
woman in spite of her seeming spectacular 
success! She knew well it was not from 
love alone that the Emperor had lifted her 
to his side. Wife and Empress she was, 
but none the less was she his cynical 
revenge! She felt that he was flinging 
her as a beautiful insult into the indignant 
faces of those imperial and royal parents 
who had declined any matrimonial alliance 
with the French Empire, and had curtly 


refused him the hand of even the very 
plainest princess in their plain ranks. So 
he had returned to France a rejected suitor, 
knowing all Europe was laughing at him. 

Well! all Europe laughed with him in 
his marriage and at those who were com- 
pelled to acknowledge the young Empress ! 
But it must have been a little bitter to the 
bride ! A woman of many mistakes all her 
life long, a proud and haughty spirit, she 
soon knew herself a wife betrayed. Neither 
saint nor stoic, she resented the outrage 
passionately at first ; then suddenly became 
indifferent ; then abandoned utterly and 

Photograph by Downey 


forever all hope of domestic happiness, and 
gave herself up, heart and soul and mind, 
to political ambition ! 

Her acquirements were inadequate, her 
temper too swift, her heart too tender! 
She was vain, religious, excitable — these 
were the strange qualifications of the 
woman who hungered to act as Regent of 
France. Yes, a woman of many mistakes 
and bitter sorrows, but of such flawless 


Thh Booklovhrs Magazine 

"detent photograph by Downey 


beauty that it will live in poetry and story. 
So shouKl that sweetest incident of her 
life, as reigning Empress, wlien England's 
Queen and Prince Consort — as guests of 
the Emperor and Empress — were crossing 
to Calais in a yacht. The handsome 
Prince Consort had to make a hit of a 
speech, and the plump, pink and white 
little Victoria tremhled so perceptihly with 
fright for him that slie hid her hands 
beneath the table — when, forgetting all 
formality, ail eticjuette, the lovely Empress 
slipiK-d her hand under, too, and in a 
moment five icy little fingers were clinging 
to the warm ones, and never let go until 

the speech came to a successful close. 
Then joy reigned supreme, and from that 
moment a tender bond of sympathy united 
the hearts of those two women, so highly 
placed as to be isolated by their very 
grandeur — a bond that never weakened 
through all the years of widowhood, when 
each dared whisper to the other of the 
husband and the son waiting in the dim 
beyond. Widows both — one the powerful 
sovereign of a mighty empire, surrounded 
three generations deep with her descend- 
ants ; the other, then as now, alone, pal- 
lid, tragic, crownless, throneless — Eugenie, 
the Imperial Wraith ! 

What We Are Buying at Panama 

By frank H. TAYLOR 

In undertaking to complete the Panama 
Canal, the United States is purchasing a 
property which has thus far involved its 
owners in enormous losses. Nevertheless 
we take it over in the calm belief that, by 
virtue of our improved machinery and the 
ability of our engineers, the two oceans 
will be joined at the Isthmus of Panama 
within ten years, resulting in a reduction 
of the maritime distance from our Atlantic 
ports to our Pacific ports of ten thousand 
miles, and a saving to the commerce of 
the world of an annual sum equal to the 
entire cost of the work. 

The world is familiar with the story of 
the old French canal company, organized 
in 1883, which, backed by the capital of 
two hundred thousand stockholders, ex- 
pended six years of ineffectual and deadly 
toil upon the Isthmus; then failed in 1889, 
and transferred its rights and the wreckage 
of its visible property to a new company in 


The public is less familiar with this 
second company, which has, with a rela- 
tively small capital, preserved as far as 
possible the physical property as it received 
it, and has continued to employ a force 
varying from nineteen hundred to thirty- 
five hundred men, in order to fulfil the 
conditions of its concession from Colombia. 

Even less clearly has it been set forth 
thus far what Uncle Sam has actually 
bought or contracted to buy. Let us take 
account of stock. These are the items : 

30.CXX) acres of ground at terminals and 
along the route. 

2,431 buildings, including offices, quar- 
ters, storehouses, shops, hospitals, and 
terminal sheds. 

An immense collection of dredges, tugs, 
barges, excavators, cars, locomotives, and 
other machinery and appliances, not con- 
sidered of much present value. 

Work done by the old and the new 
French companies, with an estimated re- 
moval of about 36,000,000 cubic yards of 
material at a cost of a little more than 
$88,600,000, this sum representing about 
sixty per cent, of the entire Isthmian out- 
lay, according to the French canal report 
of 1900. 

Maps and drawings, and the records 
gathered by the French engineers, valued 
at $2,000,000. 

The Panama Railway, including three 

For these several items the second, or 
new, French company is to receive 
$40,000,000. Twenty-four millions of 
this amount, less obligations, will be turned 
over to the old company, which had 
spent at the time of its collapse nearly 
$250,000,000, largely in promotion. 

The Republic of Panama is to receive 
immediately $10, 000,000, and annually, 
after nine years, the sum of $250,000. 
The United States receives from Panama 
the grant of a strip of land five miles wide 
upon each side of the canal. We are also 
to become sponsors for the continuance of 
good order throughout the new republic. 

The total excavation yet to be done is 
estimated at about 95,000,000 cubic yards, 
not including the work at the Bohio dam 
and the Gigante spillway. The comple- 
tion of the canal to a depth of thirty-six 
feet from ocean to ocean, a distance of 
forty-nine miles, is expected to cost about 
$145,000,000. Vessels will navigate this 


The Booklovers Magazine 

channel at a rate, incliuiing lockajie, of 
four miles per hour. All sailing craft will 
be towed not only through the canal, but 
upon the Pacific side for a long distance 
out to sea. 

The aggregate probable tonnage — as 
compiled by Professor Lewis M. Haupt, 
member of the W^ilker Commission, from 
numerous authorities — is placed at about 
10,000,000 tons. Of this business he 
believes that twenty per cent, will consist 
of coal. It is estimated that seventy-five 
per cent, of the whole intcroceanic traffic 
will be from points north of the meridian 
of the canal to other points north of the 
same meridian. To what extent the 
canal will prove profitable, above the cost 
of administration, cannot now be stated. 
The Suez Canal, under British control, 
repays its cost every five years. 

As the visitor to the Isthmus approaches 
Colon he notes that it is set upon a small 

island along the eastward curve of a deep 
bay, around which are broken groups of 
hills. It is only by favor of moderate 
weather that this so-called port, exposed 
as it is to the open sea, can be reached. 
If a norther breaks, craft make haste to 
get away seaward until it is over. The 
rambling, palm-dotted town is built upon 
land belonging to the Panama Railway 
Company. It is better known in America 
as Aspinwall. This place came into being 
coincidentally with the railway, as its 
Atlantic terminal, nearly fifty years ago. 
It is a sad little spot ; even its solitary 
monument — a fine figure of Columbus, 
presented to the town by the Empress 
Eugenie — stands as a reminder of bank- 
ruptcy and death. 1 he railway, sweeping 
out of town southward, soon finds the 
sinuous, treacherous Chagrcs river lurking 
in its dense thicket of swamp, and keeps 
company with it for some twenty-two 




The Booklovers Magazine 



miles. Coming in from the north, at 
Obispo, the Chagrcs is low and feeble in the 
dry season, but a devouring lion when in 
flood. More than any other factor in the 
problem, the Chagres and its vagaries must 
be reckoned with. The railway crosses the 
Culebra summit, the spine of the Isthmus, 
and winds down to the coast at Panama, 
coming to an end at the costly new La 
Boca iron pier, one thousand feet long, 
from which a ship canal extends out to 
deep water. 

Panama — picturesque, dirty, and deadly 
— dates back to the wild days of Morgan 
the pirate, who, somewhere about the 
year 1671, burned Old Panama, five miles 
eastward ; whereupon the inhabitants mi- 
grated to this small peninsula, because the 
guns of the buccaneers could not reach it. 

One may still hear fearsome tales of the 
work of death among the forces of the 
railway builders, where every tie is said to 
have cost a human life. A certain con- 

tractor sent four hundred laborers down 
from New York ; ten only lived to return 
home. Hardly less greedy was the destroyer 
among the canal diggers in the eighties. 
It is now, and always will be, one of the 
most dangerous regions in the world, 
especially for a prolonged stay of the 
unacclimated visitor ; although this state- 
ment has been denied by some recent 

The ditch which extends inland from 
Colon through the lowlands fifteen miles — 
or as far as Bohio — and the chain of scars 
upon the ridge, wrought there by the 
French, are in the same direction and in 
close company with the railway. Comfort- 
able launches run upon occasion up and 
down the ditch. It is pleasantly bordered 
with dense tropical foliage, and is supposed 
to be twenty-nine feet deep ; but there are 
many places where the silt from the river 
has flowed in and so filled it that even 
rowboats must pick their way. The sum 


The Booklovers Magazine 

to be applied to this section of the canal 
is about $12,000,000. At Hohio, at the 
foot of the lake to be created, are to 
be located two great double locks, having 
a combined lift of ninety feet, estimated 
to cost above $11,500,000. When the 
French arrived at this point of difficulty, 
they drilled for a foundation until they 
came to clay, and " let it go at that." 
The American commissioners drilled to a 
depth of one hundred and twenty-eight 

above Alhajuela, and the creation thereby 
of a second lake, for a more perfect con- 
trol of the waters of the upper Chagres. 
Eminent engineers hold strenuously that 
it is possible to convert the turbulent 
Chagres "from a menace into a most use- 
ful friend," and to make it supply all the 
water that can possibly be needed for 
public traffic for centuries to come. 

Lake Bohio, which will result from the 
barrier of the wall and its locks, will fur- 


feet below sea level before they came to 
bed rock. Upon this must be set the vast 
masonry wall across the pass, which is to 
hold the gates of the locks in their place. 
In the face of such a piece of work all 
figures are but hazards. The Cornite 
Technique, an international body of engi- 
neers of the highest authority, after 
unbiased and exhaustive studies, strongly 
recommended the " two-lake project.' 
If this is eventually adopteii, it will mean 
the building of a dam a short distance 

nish a fine inland anchorage and deep 
water for a dozen miles. A sum of nearly 
$3,000,000 is to be used here. This inner 
lake, nearly as large as the upper bay in 
New York harbor, and about midway 
between the Caribbean Sea and Panama 
Bay, will be the natural meeting-place of 
steamers. The passage of the waterway — 
consisting of a central lake and a canal at 
each end extending to the sea-coast — will 
require altogether from ten to twelve 
hours. Ships starting from either termi- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


nus early in the morning may traverse the 
whole route by nightfall ; those starting at 
noon can anchor at twilight in the shel- 
tered lake, ready for an early morning start. 
Guard gates at the head of Lake Bohio are 
designed to preserve its level, irrespective 
of the Culebra section. The summit divi- 
sion begins here ; the deepest cutting is at 
a point five miles southeast from the gates, 
where the bottom of the canal will be two 
hundred and eighty-six feet below the nat- 

along a series of double-tracked benches ; 
and all goes well unless, as has frequently 
happened there, a landslide occurs. Elec- 
tricity, generated from the upper waters of 
the Chagres River, will probably supplant 
steam power. 

At the Pacific pair of locks, known as 
the Pedro Miguel locks, conditions for a 
foundation are better than at Bohio. 
These also will be double locks, having four 
chambers with a lift of forty-two feet each. 


ural surface. Here, in the famous Culebra 
cut, more men, money, and ef?ort have 
been expended than upon the entire bal- 
ance of the route. Of the 43,000,000 
cubic metres which it was necessary to re- 
move, the French were able to displace 
but 1 ,000,000 metres each year. This will 
partly explain why their machinery, much 
of which has been kept in fairly workable 
condition, is not regarded as of any value. 
The Americans expect to move 5,000,000 
cubic yards each year. The cutting is done 

They are to cost a little more than 

A final lock at Miraflores, one and a 
third miles below Pedro Miguel, will drop 
ships to the sea level, with eight miles to 
run down the Rio Grande valley to open 
sea. At the Pacific end the canal has 
been excavated about four miles inland. 
It is a curious fact that when a ship, com- 
ing from the Atlantic Ocean, reaches the 
Pacific, it is twenty-two miles further east 
than when it started at Colon. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

At La Boca, the river mouth upon the 
inner bay at Panama, a channel has been 
cut three miles seaward through the coral 
rock, which here forms the shallow bottom 
of the bay. This work will necessarily be 
enlarged and carried to the thirty-six-foot 

Among the vast number of conditions 
presented in reports by the Walker Com- 
mission, and orally by its members for the 
consideration of Senator Morgan's com- 
mittee, the testimony of Professor Haupt 
regarding Panama Bay is most interesting. 
He stated tliat this great body of water, 
which is situated just north of the thermal 
equator, is in the region of calms so con- 
stant that the occasional sailing ships 
which visit this region require from two to 
three weeks to reach the open sea and find 
a breeze to send them upon their errands. 
Practically there are no clearances of sail- 
ing craft from Panama, for this reason. 
The usual and most economical course for 
a sailing ship, en route from Panama Bay 
to San Francisco, is south west ward as far 
as the Galapagos Islands upon the equator, 
then westward fifteen hundred miles, then 
shaping a reach direct for destination. 

The large modern fore-and-aft sailing 
vessel is the most economical of carriers, 
and especially desirable for the transporta- 
tion of petroleum to China and Japan, as 
it reduces the danger of fires. But if a 
ship of this class must be towed hundreds 
of miles seaward, and drift nearly two 
thousand miles further, before getting any 
nearer San Francisco than when she catted 
her anchor, it argues a serious objection to 
the Panama route as compared with that 
of Nicaragua, where — at Brito — these 
conditions of calm are not usual. The 
argument has less force when applied to 
carriers bound for China or the Philippines. 

Generations which have come and gone 
have been stirred by the prospect of an 
Isthmian waterway. The idea is oKler 
than our civilization. It was urged by a 
Portuguese navigator in 1550. Nearly 
eighty years ago the Nicaraguans petitioned 
the United States to assume the task, in 
1829 the Netherlands proposed to tr\- it. 

In 1838 a concession was granted to a 
Belgian company. The subject has been 
discussed and urged in nearly every court 
of Europe. New Grenada granted permis- 
sion to build a railway across tlie Isthmus 
in 1849; and it was finished by American 
capital in six years. 

In 1849, too, the Hise treaty was signed, 
and Cornelius Vanderbilt formed the Amer- 
ican Atlantic and Pacific Ship Canal Com- 
pany. Walker and his filibusters killed of? 
this enterprise. Secretary of State Lewis 
Cass closed a treaty for a Nicaraguan canal 
in 1857. Between 1851 and 1864 Fred- 
erick M. Kelley, a wealthy New York 
merchant, exploited a Darien route, expend- 
ing a fortune in his efforts. In seven years 
from 1870 constant engineering expedi- 
tions went out, came home, and made 
reports. In 1884 President Arthur sub- 
mitted another treaty ; it was pigeonholed 
by our Senate the following year. 

The French movement began with a 
concession carried to Paris in 1875 by 
Lieut. Lucien Napoleon Bonaparte Wyse. 
The De Lesseps were drawn into the pro- 
ject. The senior De Lesseps, coming to 
Washington, was informed by President 
Hayes that whoever might build the canal 
America must control it ; but this was not 
made public in France. Four great New 
York banking houses were heavily subsi- 
diz.ed. The Isthmus was attacked blindly. 
In 1885 many trainetl writers predicted 
French failure. It was estimated that 
Culebra hill would absorb the labor of 
fifty years. The bubble burst three years 

This enumeration teaches that a treaty 
does not necessarily imply a canal. But 
the prestige of the richest and most 
aggressive of the nations, the honor of its 
dominant political party, and the future 
reputation of our ultra-energetic Chief 
Executive now depend upon a joining of 
the seas across Panama. The world is 
already watching the moves made by those 
who are playing the game. It will be 
unsparing in its derision if they fail to 
" make good." Americans do not fail, 
ihe annals of our past achievement cry 

The Booklovers Magazine 



out against such a possibility. When the 
great events of this new century are cata- 
logued by the historian of the future, the 
creation of the Panama canal by the North 
Americans, as a contribution to the welfare 
of the world, will be near the top of 
his page, and written in bold, enduring 
sentences to the lasting glory of the 
generation which accomplished it. 

When the work is done, and when the 
first laden ship glides safely and speedily 
through this jungle-bordered channel, the 
rate sheets of the world's commerce will 
be re-written. A new world will be opened 
to the hustling American drummer. The 
influence of the temperate nations, the 
example of their peaceful methods of con- 
ducting and perpetuating their govern- 
ments, will fall upon the hot-blooded but 
receptive people of the Latin republics, 
and will, in time, end their cruel and waste- 
ful epidemic of revolutions. The school- 
book and geography will reach remote 
plantations under the shadow of the Andes, 

and be found in the thatched huts of palm- 
crowned isles. Our doctors, whose skill 
and research have banished yellow fever 
from Cuba, will safeguard the workers 
upon the great canal against the ravages 
of one of the most deadly climates in the 
world, and will thus teach the people of 
tropic ports that it is possible for them to 
exercise sanitary control over one of the 
most serious obstacles to their prosperity. 
The prejudice of the Spanish-speaking 
nations toward the aggressive people of the 
North, which has prevailed from the begin- 
ning, will dissolve as the full import of this 
world-work becomes understood by them ; 
and, in the fulness of time, Central and 
South America will concede to Los Estados 
Unidos del Norde that confidence and good 
will which should naturally bind together 
all the Americas. 






'^X^' #7 

A5tory by 5t!ipail Kd|tin^ Glaspell 


In spite of the tight feeling in her throat, the tingling of her 
hands, the awful humming in her head — the dreadfulness of it all — 
she was conscious of a desire to laugh. She caught herself thinking 
it was like a play, and a rather cheap, melodramatic play at that. 
It flashed through her mind that some time she would make a 
story of it, only it was such a highly-wrought situation, so wild, that 
she did not believe she could dispose of it to any of the best maga- 
zines. There flitted before her blurred vision the cover design of a 
periodical which might take it ; and then she grew very sick, while 
something seemed hammering it into her head, into her heart, into 
every bit of her, that the future of her dreams and toils was sinking 
to black nothing. 

A half-hour before she had come there more light of heart, more 
full of hope, more joyful than she had ever been in all her life. 
And now joy and hope and happiness would never come flooding 
into her heart again. The sun would shine, the trees wave, the 
birds sing, and yet — oh ! — it was strange. 

The coldness of her hands was spreading down to her feet, her 
throat was getting tighter, the buzzing in her head louder. And it 
was all growing funnier ! She could feel herself about to give way 
to a long, loud laugh when she heard the voice of the woman saying : 
I think I had better give you some whiskey." 



Thh BooKLcn'KRS Magazine 

She rather resented that, and so she sat up and said in so quiet 
and even a voice that it frightened her : " Oh no, thank you. 
I don't need anything of that sort. I'm going now." 

liut she did not go. She merely slid forward in her chair, 
grasped one hand in the other, thinking whimsically that perhaps 
there was some law of physics whereby two cold hands could warm 
each other, and then she looked around the room. 

"You have a beautiful home," she said, after the manner of 
one making a simple observation. 

The woman looked at her keenly, a touch of alarm in her face. 
" You have seen it many times before," she answered. 

" Oh yes," said the girl vaguely, " before." 

Then she rose and stood in the arch between the library and the 
hall and looked all about. Despite the hamrnering at her head, 
the sick feeling that was all over her, it came to her again that it 
was like a play. Her mind was running a good deal to plays just 
now because she was hoping that after awhile some one might want 
to dramatize her book. And so she looked all about, and considered 
that the scene would be very effective. The shades were drawn 
just right, the colors were good, and the house was so rich and 
quiet and beautiful. Even the costumes were right, she thought : 
the woman in her wine-colored morning gown, and she — the girl — 
in her white linen shirt-waist suit, and her little black hat with its 
pert sort of quill. Yes, that was surely correct. 

She walked to the door and opened it. The woman came and 
stood there beside her, and they looked out at that vista alive with 
the sounds and smells of the spring. Two of their friends drove by 
in a runabout, and they both nodded and smiled at them. The 
girl even waved her hand, wondering as she did so whether it would 
ever grow warm again. " I suppose they think we're deep in what 
we'll wear to the dance tonight," she said with a short, sharp kind 
of laugh. 

The woman walked out on the porch and gave a twist to a 
vine which was climbing up a trellis. The girl stood there looking 
at her, thinking that everything of tragedy of which she had read 
in books was wrong. At crucial times people acted just as they 
did in the commonplace hours — really they acted more so. And 
that would be a good feature to bring out in the play. The tragedy 
of the play must be very quiet, very conventional, and commonplace. 

She leaned against one of the big pillars of the porch ami looked 
at the woman. She had never thought it a hard face, and it did 
not look haril now ; not hard, but unfathomable, inexorable. 

The Booklovers Magazine 


" There are a number of things I might do," she began, 
speaking in the musing way in which she was wont to discuss the 
possible actions of people in her stories. " I might fall down on 
my knees and beg — beg of you not to take my future from me, 
just when it was opening up to me like this, and after I had worked 
and worked — you know how I have worked," she concluded simply. 
" But I'll not beg," she went on. " I don't like that idea at 
all. And I'll not reason, though there are things which might be 
said to you as a reasonable woman — our being friends, you know, 
and your making it plain you intended all the time to turn on me 
when the hour came. It takes the sincerity out of everything 
you've done, doesn't it?" 

The woman turned, a trifle of appeal in her attitude. " I am 
going to trust you to understand that after you have thought it 
over," she said. 

But I'll not beg," said the girl, not following this new drift, 
and I'll not reason, and I'll not deny." 

I should think not," said the woman, making the first call 
upon her great gift of sarcasm. 

I could make a good denial," said the girl calmly. " I was 
thinking of it there, when you told me what you were going to do. 
You have no idea how many things I thought out all in a minute, 
and how clearly they all came to me. I could say they were 
literary love-letters, couldn't I ? They're really very impersonal as 
I remember them. I could say I gave them to your husband to 
look over — that I was fixing them up for publication. There's a 
publisher I know very well who would say I had had correspondence 
with him about them." 

" You are very shrewd," said the woman quietly. 
"I could be if I wanted to; but I don't \\ ant to. Some way 
I haven't heart to do anything of that sort. I don't care anything 
about denying them. I did write Mr. Kramer some love-letters. 
I wrote them — let me see, I'm twenty-five now, and I wrote them 
when I was eighteen; that was seven years ago, wasn't it?" 

Tlie woman turned back to the climbing vine and made no 

" It's queer about love-letters," pursued the girl. " You take 
a girl of my — well, we'll say temperament, though I hate the word, 
and there comes a time when it's as necessary to write love-letters 
as it is to breathe." 

Her companion flashed her a quick glance betokening an 
appreciation of just the thing implied. That had been the great 


The Booklovers Magazine 

bond between them, the way they were able to get at each other. 
"I think that's quite true," she said. 

The girl laughed. "Now aren't we queer? It isn't at all 
logical for you to admit you understand that." 

"I do understand it though — perfectly." 

"Well, anyway, it's true. And as a matter of fact I didn't 
write those letters to your husband at all." 

"No, you wrote them to a creature of your ideals," and the 
woman smiled bitterly. 

"Not that so much, but I wrote them to the man most — I 
don't mean available — most eligible, I guess, for them." 

They both laughed a little, and then the. girl turned and walked 
down two steps. But after a minute she turned about and faced 
the woman. 

"Do you know what I think is the hardest thing in life?" 
h\ \ she said, tensely now. Nothing but the singing of the birds, the 

rustling of the trees, the strange, sweet sounds of the spring, broke 
the silence. "It's having to pay for things that are all used up!" 
she said passionately. "It's living through things, and then when 
you've outlived them, and are up, up higher, you know, to have to 
go back then, then, and answer for them. You wouldn't mind it 
much at the time, when they meant something to you, when 
they're worth it, but when they're away of?, outlived, forgotten, 
then to have them come back and stand in the way of things that 
are vital — it's hideous!" 

She walked back, then, and leaned once more against the pillar 
of the porch. " You're older than I am, you've lived more, in a 
way," she said, looking at the woman almost confidingly, "won't 
you tell me why it is they can't ask us for the price of our bread 
when the taste of it is still in our mouths? When the strength of 
it, you know, is still in our blood?" 

The woman snapped of? a piece of vine and threw it to the 
ground. "I must go in now," she said, the same jerkiness in her 
voice there had been in her hand, and, as the door closed behind 
the figure in the wine-colored morning gown, the girl knew that 
the woman had gone because she had been afraid to stay. 

And the woman stood in the arch between the library and the 
hall, just where the girl had stood a little before, and she said to 
herself: "When she looks like that, talks like that, I almost care 
for her! I," she whispered, passionately, "I — care for anyone 
And she put her hands to her face and tried to hold back 
the sobs. 

The Booklovers Magazine 



They had been much together in the past year — Mrs. Kramer 
and Christine Holt. People said it was nice for Christine, which 
may be interpreted that it was nice for her to have a friend with a 
house like Mrs. Kramer's, and who could do the things for her which 
Mrs. Kramer could do. For Christine herself did not live in a beau- 
tiful house, she did not live with people who could do nice things 
for her, or who cared to. That was why they said it was very nice 
for Christine. There were only a few, only one or two, perhaps, 
who could look a little farther and see what the companionship of 
a girl like Christine had meant to a woman like Mrs.. Kramer. 

The woman herself was one of the few who put the obligation 
on her own side. She knew how much it had been to her life to 
know such a girl as Christine, and she was quite candid now as she 
sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking out at the tops of the 
trees which she could see from her bedroom window. She was 
absolutely frank in admitting the obligation. Christine had come 
close to her, and had taken some of the restlessness, the bitterness, 
from her life in the past year. And now she 

She rose sharply, and stepping into an alcove of the room 
returned after a minute with a small package. A very small pack- 
age it was, for it contained in all but six letters. She did not open 
any of them now, but just sat there holding them, the contact 
seemingly giving her strength of purpose. And yet her face was 
much troubled. It seemed a big storm was gathering in her heart. 
"My bitter, hateful life!" she sobbed out at last; and then she 
leaned her face against the window, her mouth drawn in lines 
of pain. 

It was a long time afterward that she went over and sat down 
at her desk. She spread a writing tablet out before her, she dipped 
her pen in the ink, and then she sat there, motionless, looking 
down at the white sheet. At last she began to write : 

" I know you are wondering about it — wondering, if not in a 
personal, at least in an impersonal way. You are trying, after that 
way you have, to analyze the situation, to get at my motives, to 
form a new estimate of me in this new light which has come upon 
me. I know that is what you are doing, and so I will help you a 
little. I wish I could tell you what kind of a girl I once was. I was 
something like you temperamentally. I grew up believing in such 
a lot of foolish, beautiful things. I grew up among my ideals, and 
there was no one to tell me that some day those ideals would fall 


The Booklovers Magazine 

upon me and crush me. When I was eighteen I met CharHc 
Kramer — just at the age you said you met him. There is no need 
for me to try to tell you what this first, great, short-lived love of 
mine meant to me. You have said it in your letters, and said it 
better than 1 could say it now. Yes, Christine, he made the songs 
of the birds more sweet, he made the stars of the heavens more 
numerous and more beautiful, he made the quiet of the night more 
quiet, the hush of the dawn more hol\-, the whole world more full 
of beauty and goodness and love. I know that letter of yours by 
heart, and it was true not only of you but of me. I think it has 
the note of the universal. I lived in the clouds, in a dream, in a 
holy something that was wrapped round and round me. I idealized 
until my feet never so much as touched the earth. Life was a 
poem, love was from God — oh, I was absurd, and I was happy to 
the full extent of my capacity for happiness ; and if you can form 
any true estimate of the kind of girl I was you must know that 
that capacity was great. 

Such was the I that married Charlie Kramer. Isn't it part 
of the great irony of things that a girl to whom love was a sacra- 
ment should be given to a man who looked no higher than the 
clay ? To me it was for eternity ; to him it was a thing not to 
outlast the passing fancy. Oh ! you don't know, Christine, no one 
knows, God doesn't know, what I suffered. I was shocked, 
repelled, sickened, deadened ! It seemed that the lieavens had 
tumbled down, that the color of the world had changed to muddy 
grays — that the curves had gone out of everything. I awoke to 
find myself in the real world, alone in a country that was alien to 
me, and the memories of my girlhood would rise up to smite and 
jeer at me. I had nothing — not memory, not hope, not God — 
nothing ! I sometimes wonder what it would have made of me if 
I had been a stronger character, less of a dreamer and more of a 
woman, and I wonder what kind of a life I would ha\'e worked out 
for myself had I married a man who hail understood — who had cared ! 

liut the woman I am is more vital to the present situation 
than the woman I might have been. I had no children, and I was 
not great enough of soul to let love live on without a specific thing 
at which to direct it. There was nothing to do with it, and so it 
soured within me, and got into my blood and poisoned me. 

" And because I was not great I made up my mind that some 
one must suffer for it. That idea began growing up in me almost 
at the first, born of my disappointment, the outgrowth of my 
shattered ideals — this stern, never-to-be-changed, primitive idea that 

The Booklovers Magazine 


some one must suffer for it. The only thing in the world which I 
believed in, as the grim years dragged on, was this idea of retribu- 
tion, that I — 1 — must put my finger on something that was quivering 
flesh and give it pain. I could more easily give up my life than put 
away that one idea which throbs within my shriveled heart. 

"I think you know Charlie Kramer too well to ask why I do 
not fix upon him as the target for retribution. You cannot bring 
suffering, Christine, where there is not capacity — the fine, high- 
strung kind of suffer- 
ing, the kind I must 
exact. Suffering of the 
highest type must come 
from someone with a 
soul. He has had 
many so-called affairs 
since those early days 
of our married life. 
But they were not the 
kind of women you 
and I are, Christine — 
they did not know 
what love meant, and 
so they did not move 
me in the least. Then 
one day I heard him 
say to one of his men 
friends : ' That little 
Holt girl is home from 
college — going to spend 
her vacation here. 
Jove ! — but that girl 
has a way of looking 
at a man.' I went 
upstairs, very slowly, 
and I sat down by the 

window and looked, unseeingly, out across the tree tops. That 
shriveled heart in me was very much alive now. It was like a 
great something ready to spring upon its long awaited prey. It 
wasn't his voice, it wasn't anything he did, it was something within 
myself, something I suppose we must call intuition, which told me 
that you — poor little you, Christine — were the bit of quivering flesh 
upon which I was to work my idea of retribution. 




The Booklovers Magazine 


"I knew you saw a great deal of him that summer, in a more 
or less harmless way. I knew that he made love to you, and that 
he made you care for him : he has the gift of feigning the things 
that are highest, and making the best of us feel — until we have 
cause to know otherwise — that he knows and understands. And then 
you went back to college, and you wrote out your heart to him in 
six beautiful, passionate letters. Oh poor little Christine — he was 
so unworthy of those letters! I came upon him one day reading 
them over, smirking fairly — a great, vulgar smirk of vanity — because 
a woman had written them to him. I watched him put them 
away, and then I went and took them. 

"I think I had something of the cunning of the maniac about 
it — I waited, I said nothing. I could have waited years and years 
for the right time to come. When I began cultivating your friend- 
ship last year it was because you had a certain gruesome fascination 
for me. You can understand, can't you? When I saw that you 
resented my advances, and knew it was repugnant to you to think 
of being friends with me, I fairly rejoiced, for I saw you were made 
of the kind of stuf? that is capable of suffering. And then, Chris- 
tine, as time went on I grew very fond of you. In my way I have 
been sincere. \ly friendship has been real. It could be real, 
because it is something so utterly apart from this idea of retribution 
which you, Christine, are to help me work out. Don't you see 
how it all shaped itself to my ends? You began telling me about 
this man — about Oscar Fairchild. I knew that he was the love of 
your maturer years, that your love for him was the greater love of 
a woman's rounded soul — the calmer, more enduring love which 
follows the early-day romance. I understand all about that; I 
know the way in which you care for him; I know that it is not 
inconsistent with anything which may have gone before. 

"And all the while you talked to me about your book. I 
knew you were putting your whole life into that book. And so 
when you came to me this morning and said that the publishers 
with whom you had most wanted your book to find favor had 
accepted it, I told you if you did not write them recalling your book, 
if you did not turn it over to me, relinquishing it forever, that I 
would read those six unfettered letters to the man for whom you 
cared. You can have your book, or you can have your love; you 
cannot have them both. In making you choose I am subjecting 
you to the finest kind of suffering a woman like you covdd be asked 
to endure. I\Iy hour has come; someone is paying, dearly. I think 
you can see it is something quite apart from the fact that we are 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 


friends. I seem to have two sets of feelings about it. The one is 
the part of me which might have been a mother. I am longing to 
stand over you, to protect you, and to help you. I suffer with you 
when that mother-set of feelings takes hold of me. But the other 
set is the real me, Christine; not the me which might have been, 
but the me which is. Nothing you could say, nothing 1 could say 
myself, nothing which could happen, could change this idea of 
making someone pay for the suffering 1 have endured, and that 
logical someone is you. 

" I wonder which you will take? I confess I do not know. 
If I knew you less well I would say that you would recall your 
book. But I know that book has been your life, Christine. And 
yet, will you be brave enough, sacrificial enough to say that you 
will live without love? Will you be willing to lose, not merely 
him, but his faith in you? There is one thing which I think your 
understanding of human nature will tell you. There is no chance 
that he will listen to the letters, and then go to you and say, 
'Christine, you were young, unguided ; you did not understand; 
we will let it go.' Men are not like that, Christine, as I think 
you know. 

" Isn't it all strange — and awful ! But my life has been strange 
and awful. It would be different were I a greater woman. I do 
not know that you will ever see this. I do not know that anyone 
will ever see it. But I am glad that I wrote it, for it has made 
things more clear to me; it has helped to put me right with myself. 

" You're thinking about it now, Christine — your big gray eyes 
looking far into space. I'm sorry it had to be you ; you had no 
mother, you have been lonely, and — and yet, Christine, you are the 
logical one, and someone has got to pay!" 


Within an hour after she reached home Christine Holt wrote 
a letter to her publishers, recalling her book. It was the primitive 
woman of her which did it, that essentially human in her heart 
which called out for love as the thing she could not do without. 
She thought very little about the book as she wrote the letter, except 
in a half-impersonal way that it was an awful thing, and unjust. 

Her great idea was to get the letter off, to get the reply, and 
have it all settled up. The one thing in the world which really 
mattered now was that Oscar Fairchild should never see those 
awful letters which she had written so long ago. Words from 
them, sentences from them which she would have supposed she had 


The Booklovers Magazine 

forgotten, came up to torture her now. She ran out and posted 
her letter, and then she came and paced back and forth in her 
room, her face flushing hotly as floods of those awful memories 
would rush over her with all their tormenting vividness. 

She sat down in a chair and covered her face with her hands. 
She was ashamed ! — it seemed the very humiliation of it would 
madden her. That part of her life had been as something which 
had slipped away from her, something in the past which supplicated 
for tolerance. And now it had stepped into the present, stepped 
in as a grim and hideous thing which was to lay its hand upon the 
future. Was that the way it was in life? Were the things of 
yesterday — the forgotten, the outlived — forever stepping in to put 
their mark on the things of tomorrow? 

It was so close and desolate in her room that she got up and 
put on her things, saying to herself that she would take the Ninth 
Street car. Taking the Ninth Street car meant getting to the 
woods, and many times when characters in the book would not 
behave, or when things at home made her a little more unhappy 
than usual, Christine had taken that Ninth Street car. 

As she sat in it now there came back to her that strange sense 
of the outward commonplaceness of things that were tragic. She 
supposed she looked just as she had looked yesterday; in spite of 
the fact that so much in her life had changed, her hat was pinned 
on just as straight, her jacket pulled down with the same care 
against wrinkles. It was strange that when the heart beneath that 
jacket was beating so passionately she should think of such a thing 
as wrinkles. To the people in the car she looked just as she looked 
yesterday, yesterday! — when the world was all bright and beautiful. 

There was something which always seemed to go from the 
soul of the woods into the soul of Christine Holt — something big 
and tranquil, something which wrapped her round and round with 
peace, and breathed over her a spirit of quiet. She sat down on a 
familiar log now, leaned her head against a tree, and letting the 
sounds and odors of the spring sweep in upon her she waited for 
that adjustment, that calming something which she was sure would 
come to her out there in the bigness and the quiet. At last her 
face cleared to something that was half a smile. After all, she was 
to have him. The fact that she was giving up her book, relin- 
quishing all of that for which the book stood, failed to come to her 
with the sharpness she might have anticipated. She was too tired 
to think about it. Tired! — she was so utterly tired that if Oscar 
Fairchild were there she would put her head down on his breast 


The Booklovers Magazine 


and lose the consciousness of everything in the world save the rest, 
the solace, that was in his presence. He was like the woods — big, 
and soothing, and steadying; and Christine, poor little Christine — 
she was full of conflicts. 

It was that which made the emptiness, the bitterness, in the 
life of Mrs. Kramer. She had no one to mean to her what the 
woods meant, and mean it in its human sense. Strangely enough 
it was pity, not resentment, which rushed into the girl's heart at 
thought of Mrs. Kramer, and plainly as though she had seen it 
upon those sheets of paper, she could read the story of that life. 

She did not dwell upon it, though, for it was her own life, the 
turbulent, far from happy life of Christine Holt which crowded into 
her consciousness, and asked for judgments. The first thing she 
could remember about her childhood was that one day a little 
neighbor girl had put her arms about her and hugged her very tight 
and cried out: "Oh Christine — I love you so!" And Christine 
had jumped up and down in great joy, and she had skipped all 
about the yard, and laughed and danced, for she was so happy 
because the little neighbor girl loved her. Though she had not 
known it, that was the thing Christine had wanted all the time, 
and no one before had ever said : " Oh Christine — I love you so ! " 

And in the years which followed, the years of her awakening 
womanhood, there were few, pitifully few, who said it. They 
said she was a strange girl — some saw, even then, that she was a 
talented girl — but there were no understanding, loving eyes to look 
within Christine's heart and see the great waves of love which were 
wanting to pour themselves out upon some one who was waiting 
for them. 

It was in the fullness of her girlhood's bloom, after a lonely 
childhood, a childhood so full of strange fancies as to leave her heart 
crowded with unspoken things, that Charlie Kramer came and 
talked to her of love. He frightened her at first, but he gave her 
the first glimpse of a world of reality akin to the world of dreams, 
and because she was hungry for the things he said she read into 
them beauties which were not there. She had thought she was 
living a poem, while in truth — she could see it quite plainly now — 
she had risen to no greater heights than the breaking of a law. 

It was hard for her, though, to force herself now to a real sense 
of the wrong done — a wrong for which she must pay. She could 
remember that, when writing the letters, she would sometimes 
forget all about Charlie Kramer. They were as the mere letting 
out of things pent up within her heart, and she had been conscious 


The Booklovers Magazine 

when she posted them that he would not know just what they 
were about. Then there had come the awakening, the turning on 
of the glare of reality, the disappointment — half humorous and 
half bitter — the living away from it, the growing beyond it. And 
it was now, with her opened eyes, her fuller understanding, her 
nicer appreciations, now in this hour of her maturity, that she was 
asked to give up the future in payment for the blindness of the past ! 

She went to bed early that night, for she thought exhaustion 
might bring sleep, and it would be blessed to forget all about it for 
a time. But the quiet of the night only quickened her perceptions, 
and as she lay there staring up into the dark there was a restlessness, 
a soreness of spirit, which had not been upon her out in the woods. 
The thought of Oscar Fairchild was not the balm to her now that 
it had been then. It did not seem now that if she could only put 
her head down upon his breast nothing else would matter. Other 
things would matter I The thing which stood out biggest of all in 
her consciousness now was her book. She was alive with memories 
of other nights when she had been restless, unhappy ; and she 
knew it was the book which had been a solace to her then. The 
book was as something which was born when she herself was born. 
Even in her lonely childhood the book had been part of her life ; 
not as a book then, but as strange fancies which took her away 
from the things which were not lovely. 

She was sitting up in bed now, her large gray eyes peering out 
into the dark as though it held the story of the future years. It 
was with a great rush of hot blood to her checks there came to 
her the thought that she had bartered her book for happiness. 
That thing which had been all in all to her, which had redeemed, 
glorified her life, she had kicked into the dust just because she 
wanted that gift of love — rest. 

Her throat was growing very tight. After all, would the 
sacrifice of the book be of any avail ? Would that love which had 
stood for peace, for a beautiful, serene kind of happiness, ever be 
again to her what it had been before ? Would joy come to her 
after she had sold her very soul to gain that joy ? 

She threw back the covers, a kind of dry sob in her throat, 
and, slipping out of bed, stole over to the other side of the room. 
Pulling open a drawer of her desk, she took out a copy of the 
manuscript of her book. Then, with the feel of it, with the 
consciousness that it was there, she broke down. She pressed the 
sheets of paper tight against her face, and cried as she had never 
cried before in all the years. 

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When the sobs had spent themselves she was more calm. 
She stood there patting the sheets of paper much as though she 
were soothing an injured child. "Christine will stand it ! " she 
murmured passionately. " Christine will stand it all — and you, 
you shall have life, and triumph, and power. You've earned it, 
you " 

She sank to her knees then, her head falling to the cl 
always stood beside her desk, her face still resting against 
of paper. With that acute flash of vision which comes 
hours she could see the years stretch out before her. 
see herself unloved, uncomforted, could see herself tired, 
but withal she only pressed those pages of her book tig! 
burning face. It seemed to the girl that she had been 
best that was in her, to the things which something told 
solemn hour of the night were 
the highest things of all. The 
book was her beliefs, her senti- 
ments ; it was her soul, herself; 
and no matter how other things 
shaped themselves it must live, 
must work out its destiny. 

At last she put the book 
away. She stood there irreso- 
lutely for a few minutes, and 
then she slipped on a dressing 
gown and crept stealthily down- 
stairs. They were all asleep, 
they would not know — and 
then it would be all over. 

"The Western Union? 
Yes, I have a message. You 
got the address ? ' Please dis- 
regard letter you will receive 
from me dated twenty-second ; 
I accept your terms, and thank 
you for them.' It's Miss Holt. 
Yes, Christine Holt. No, 
charge it to me. Thank you." 

"They'll call it one of the 
eccentricities of genius," she 
told herself almost gaily, as she 
crept back into bed. And then 


Thk Booklovers Magazine 

the gray eyes closed, the healthful flush of youth came to her 
cheeks, and Christine Holt was in that land where problems and 
sorrows enter not. 


It was chilly that May evening, and Mrs. Kramer ordered a 
fire in the library. While it was being laid she made herself busy 
about the room, putting away books that had been left upon the 
tables, giving a touch to a picture here, adjusting a shade there, 
doing things as one who is seeking the calm of occupation. She 
left the room then, and when she returned she carried in her hand 
a small package done up in yellowish paper and tied with bluish 
cord. This she placed upon a table near the fire, and after looking 
all around the room sat down. The hour in which she was to turn 
the balance, to work out the idea which had become flesh of her 
A I 1 flesh and bone of her bone, was very close at hand. She was 

waiting for Oscar Fairchild, and when he came she would open the 
small package which lay on the table near her. 

She was thinking now that she would have been much dis- 
appointed in Christine had the girl given up her book. She would 
not have been Christine had she done that : she woulil have been 
the normal, average woman, and she would have been less brave — 
and Mrs. Kramer loved bravery. 

The girl's attitude all through had been full of a daring which 
Mrs. Kramer liked. Christine had never made allusion to what 
had taken place between them, and she had gone on much as 
usual. She had made no move to indicate that she thought a 
mitigation of Mrs. Kramer's attitude possible. She had talked 
freely about the bringing out of her book, of her hopes for it, and 
her great impatience to see how it looked in print. She said she 
was even now thinking of another book — a book which she thought 
would be harder to handle, but of greater possibilities. For the 
other book was to be the life of a woman, and the first book had 
been the life of a girl. That was the nearest Christine had come 
to speaking in words of the new forces which had entered into her 
life. And she spoke of Oscar Fairchild just as she had always 
spoken of him. She told that he was coming to see her, and that 
they were making plans to be married very soon. 

But there was a difference in Christine, a subtle diflference 
which the older woman was quick to discern. Not alone in her 
general attitude, but in the little things — in the modulations of her 
voice, in the poise of her head, the clasp of her hand, Christine 

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gave evidence of a something held back, a force, a power in reserve, 
a sort of masterful acceptance of the inevitable. She had that 
optimism of rare souls which lies in making the best of destiny. 
She would sip from the cup of joy every drop which she could 
claim, and when the cup was taken from her she would not 
cry out. 

With Mrs. Kramer it had ceased utterly to be a matter between 
her and Christine ; everything of the personal, the specific, had 
gone out of it. It was not merely an idea with her — it had become 
a religion ; and she had that devotion to it, that zeal in its execu- 
tion, which religionists have had all through the ages. The fact 
that there was ruthlessness in it, that it must cause suffering, was 
no more an appeal to her than it has been an appeal to the zealots 
of all time. Her cruelty grew out of her belief, and it was made 
adamant by her devotion. 

Then Oscar Fairchild was standing in the door, and she rose 
and held out her hand. She had met him before, but she looked 
at him now with another interest because of the nature of the 
interview that was before them. She looked at him wondering 
what he would do and say, wondering how he would take it all. 
She thought, as she looked into his face, that here would be a test 
of the stufif that men are made of. For in Oscar Fairchild she had 
the normal, average man of the better sort. He would do very 
nearly what the natural, primitive man would do. He would not 
rise to the great heights of the exceptional. He would stand on 
the wide, sane plane of the average. 

Her conviction as to that grew more settled after they had sat 
there talking for a few minutes. He had come there to see her as 
Christine's best friend, had come because he would know and be 
liked by the friends of the girl he was to marry. As he talked 
Mrs. Kramer smiled a little. To the man Christine was different 
and apart from all the other women of the world. And he held 
her so, not because of a fact that Christine actually was different, 
but because he loved her; and, loving her, it was the normal, 
average attitude. 

And then, in a sense, Mrs. Kramer lost sight of him as an 
individual, as Christine's lover, and she looked over at him as 
representative of the type of normal, average man. Regarding him 
as such, she was possessed of a keen desire to know, in actuality, 
what he would think of things. 

So she began telling him how she liked to think out stories, 
how she thought she had a little gift for seeing them, though she 


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could not construct. She thought of them, of course, in connec- 
tion with Christine, thinking that perhaps sometime Christine 
might write them. 

There was one in particular, she told him, which had lain in 
her mind for a long time. She was going to tell it to Christine 
before long, but she was not sure of part of it, and she wanted a 
man's point of view upon it. She said, with a half-embarrassed 
laugh, that in the crude telling it would sound much like other 
stories of that kind, but that he must consider it with a view to 
the touches, to the artistic, sympathetic treatment which Christine 
could give it so well. 

The woman leaned far forward in her chair, then slie clasped 
her hands tightly together, looked over into Oscar Fairchild's clean, 
open, honorable face, and began, unconsciously at first, pleading 
for Christine. He looked at her strangely ; he had not supposed 
her to be a woman of such intensity. And he had not known 
before that she had a very wonderful face. He did not know, he 
had no way of knowing, that he was getting a glimpse, not of the 
woman who was, but of that woman who might have been. And 
he did not know — how should he know ? — that it was the first 
time since she had gone into her long sleep that the other woman 
had sprung out into the heat and glare of life. 

Then she had finished, and she looked long into his face, her 
eyes continuing, reiterating, the things her lips had said. Her 
words seemed still to throb through the room ; the very air was 
vibrant with the soul-power she had thrown into them. 

" You tell it wonderfully," he said. " Christine should have 
heard you this time, for I do not believe you could ever tell it just 
like that again : the starved, lonely life the girl had led, the way 
love came to her in answer to a real need, and then the way she 
felt the insufficiency of what had been given her, and grew out of 
it, and developed into that kind of woman — you put it splendidly, 
Mrs. Kramer. I admit that you raise it clear out of the vein of 
the commonplace ; and yet, do you know " — he laughed, as in antici- 
pation of what she would term his priggishness — " I don't just like 
the idea of Christine writing a story of that kind." 

"Why?" she asked sharply; "don't vou want her to write 
of life?" 

"Of life, of course; but of the other phase of things — of the 
kinds of things, Mrs. Kramer, that you could read to one person, 
or to two persons, without — well, without hurrying over a little of 
it, you know." 

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She turned away from him, then, and looked into the fire. 
"And what do you think of the man in the story?" she asked at 
last. "Do you think the average man, the man in real life, would 
have been great enough to understand — to feel that her soul was 
not tarnished ? — was none the less great ? " 

"To care for her just as though such a thing had never hap- 
pened, you mean?" 


"Well," he said, after a minute, "that part of it will pass all 
right in a story. We expect the idealization of things in books, 
don't we? Actually, of course, it would have made a tremendous 

"He would have turned against her?" she asked, with a 
strange timidity. 

The man hesitated: "I don't just know. I think he would." 

She glanced at him then with a fierce impetuousness, as though 
she would sound again the old plea against the injustice of men to 
women. Hut with her very lips hot with protesting words there 
came to her the sense of their utter futility, and she turned and 
looked with strange white face into the fire. 

She had failed. She had made her plea, made it unpremedi- 
tatedly, made it with all the soul and power that was in her, and she 
had failed. And now — now — ? 

There was one minute, a minute of such kind as stands out 
from a whole lifetime of years, when that idea which had molded 
her very soul was wavering. But before she could reach for the 
package and throw it into the fire that minute had passed, and the 
passion of years, the passion for retribution, for making someone 
pay, had come back into its own. 

She reached over and took the letters. She sat erect in her 
chair, as one about to open a subject, but even then she did not 
speak. For in the fire she was seeing strange visions. She could 
see the suffering faces of women, she could see the white hands 
reached out in imploration, and she could see the open, bleeding 
hearts. And back of the women were the faces of the average, 
normal men — the good men, the honorable men, the men who 
would not understand. She saw that women suffered because of 
the two kinds of men who made up the world — the men like 
Charlie Kramer, who dragged all that was best in them into the 
dust ; and the good, normal men like Oscar Fairchild, who made 
women suffer because they did not, would not, understand. 

She checked a sob in her throat, and the man looked at her in 


The Booklovers Magazine 

silent wonder. He knew that she had forgotten him, that she did 
not want to talk. He supposed she was thinking of something in 
her own life, something suggested by the story she had told so elo- 
quently. Perhaps — yes, undoubtedly, that was it — the story was 
the story of her own life. Christine had told him that Mrs. Kramer 
was a strange woman, and so he settled deep in his chair and waited 
for her to break the silence. 

And the woman lost everything else in this awful sense of the 
suffering which the world must bring to women. It was not her- 
self now, it was not Christine, it was women — the suffering faces, 
the white hands, the bleeding hearts which she could see in the 
fire. Her heart went out in one great throb of pity for women, 
women who must suffer, women who must lose their ideals, women 
who must be misunderstood. If there was only something to do 
about it, some way to relieve, mitigate it, some way to bring com- 
pensation ! She put her hand to her head. That word — compen- 
sation ! It was crowding upon her, surrounding her, pushing at 
something in her. It crowded and crowded, it was making her 
dizzy, it was pushing at those props which she had builded up for 
herself during all the years. It was as though a terrible war was 
going on about her; compensation and retribution were pitted in a 
terrible, dizzying war of words. The years of the past were crumb- 
ling; the props were shaking. Where was she going? What 
should she do ? 

She heard the man stirring in his chair. She knew he was 
about to go away. "Wait ! " she said with a fierce imperativeness, 
and then she held her face in both her hands and looked into the 
fire. Something was coming to her — something was to be born 
from out this conflict of words. There was another word fighting 
for a place in the fire, and the other word — the other word — 

The man sat there and waited in wondering silence, while the 
woman looked into the fire, her face tragic with strange conflict. 

Christine waited for Oscar Fairchild that night with a strong 
sense of her hour of surrender being close at hand. All the while 
she had been with him in the past few days slie had been alive with 
the feeling that she must crowd in the joy, that no hour must go 
unfilled with something vital, that she must live enough to give her 
memories for all the years that were to come. Sometimes she 
would forget, and would sit there near him wrapped in a quiet con- 
tent ; and then something would rouse her, and every nerve of her 




The Booklovers Magazine 


being would call out that she must hurry, that every minute she 
lived now must be a minute to be remembered. That great strug- 
gle to hurry happiness — that, and the sense of insecurity, of 
something hanging over her, had left her very worn. 

And yet Christine Holt came very close to being beautiful that 
night. The little tired droop of her mouth, the wistfulness that 
was in her face, the appeal of love which shone from her eyes — all 
of that, and then the resolution, the strength, which was back of 
it all, made it a face not easy to forget. 

She wondered why he did not come; and then, in anticipation, 
she lived through the nights of the future years, nights when she 
would listen for the step which might have brought him to her, for 
the voice whicli might have sounded in her ears — would listen, only 
to remember, and suffer anew the pain of relinquishing. And then 
she did hear his step in the hall, and she sat up very straight and 
told herself she must hear it well, that the memory of it might be 
all there was for her during the years of the barren future. The 
sound of the door as he opened it, the very way in which he stood 
there with his hand upon the knob and looked at her — she forced it 
all down deep in her memory, for she told herself she would have 
need of it in the years that were to come. 

From the first moment of his coming toward her she knew that 
something had happened. And then when he just stood there look- 
ing at her in a strange, new way — did not come and put his arms 
about her, just stood there and looked — she felt that she quite 

Her first impulse to rush toward him — to tell him that it was 
not so bad after all, to force him, yes, force him, to understand — 
was not obeyed because she had no strength. She wanted to move, 
to speak, but she was powerless, stricken ; and so she just stood 
there and held her hands tightly in each other, and the thing she 
found herself hoping was that he would say nothing absurd. She 
wanted to remember these last words as long as she lived, and how 
could she feed upon memories that had been tinged with the 
ridiculous ? 

" I spent an hour or two with your friend, Mrs. Kramer," he 
began, his voice plainly indicative of something unusual to follow. 

Christine was conscious of her old hideous desire to laugh. 
But she backed to her chair and sat down, and then she said quietly : 
She told you things about me ?" 

"Yes," he said. He too had sat down, and he had turned 
half way from her and was looking straight ahead. 

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A lump came in Christine's throat. He was taking no heed of 
her ; they were far away from each other now. He did not know 
that she was pale, that siie looked tired, and different. This, then, 
was the beginning of the future. 

" She said things to me," he said, his voice throbbing as though 
the emotion was more than the words could hold, " which made 
everything — you, life, all of it, seem different." 

The girl clasped her hands tight to her forehead. "Oh, I 
suppose so," she said, "I suppose she did." 

No words fell in response to her commonplace, and in the 
heavy silence which followed Christine's mind groped out for her 
book. It was a strange thing that she had begun the new book 
that very afternoon. For some reason she had felt it would not do 
to wait another day, and she had written steadily for five hours. 
That, perhaps, was one of the things which had made her so very, 
A 1 very tired. 

She was glad that the new book had been given birth : it was a 
little something upon which to lean, something upon which to call. 
But it was insufficient. And so she pressed her hands more tightly 
upon her forehead, and hoped he would not be long. 

The man walked over to the window and, raising the shade, 
looked out into the night. " Christine," he said, turning about at 
last, "shall I tell you all about it?" 

" Whatever you wish," she replied, and wondered drearily how 
the words got past the tight place in her throat. 

You see," he began excitedly, I supposed when she sent for 
me that it was to talk about you — about the life you and I were 
going to have. I was glad to go ; I thought it would be per- 
sonal, you know; but I didn't dream — I didn't dream," he repeated, 
"that she would say things which would put a new light upon 
everything in the world." 

There was a silence which Christine felt she must break with 
a scream. 

The first of it wasn't so strange," he went on more quietly. 
" We talked of a number of things — of you, your work, and all that. 
She even told me a story which she said she was going to give you to 
write some day, and she asked what I thought of a part of it. And 
then, when she had finished the story, and when I had told her 
what she wanted to know, she seemed to forget all about me. She 
sat and looked into the fire ; so strangely, Christine, that I could 
not have spoken had I tried ! 1 looked at her face, when I dared, 
and it half frightened me, it was so unlike anything I had ever seen. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

I could feel that something was going on back of it all, that some- 
thing was — oh, I'll not try to tell it, for I don't begin to under- 
stand, but I could feel that I was in the presence of a bare soul, 
thouj^h I don't know why, or any of that. At last I felt I wanted 
to go, but she would not let me, and then she sat there, looking 
into the fire, and the silence — it was like the silence of another 
world. Finally, Christine, she jumped up and faced me, her face 
positively glorified, and she cried out, her voice ringing like a bell 
through the room : 'It's the joy must pay! — it's the joy! — the 


I ' 

She saw that I did not understand, and so she came over 
close to me, smiling as though she had just found out something. 
I tell you, Christine, it was not the face of the woman I had seen 
when I came in there an hour before. I can't tell it in her words, 
I don't suppose I can make it clear at all, but she told me I must 
be very good to you, Christine, good to you — not just in the usual 
way, not merely true to you, but that I must keep your heart young 
and full of joy, that I must never shake your ideals, that I must 
care for your queer little fancies, for the poetry that was in your 
soul. She said above everything else I was to keep you from ever 
growing bitter. 

"And then at last she said to me, so strangely, I tell you 
I'll never forget it: 'I want you to promise that you will put so 
much joy into the life you two are going to live, so much of pure, 
glorious, God-given joy, that it will make up for all the sufiEering 
that could possibly have been crowded into the life of another.' 
Jj Wasn't that strange ? Wasn't it ? Why, Christine, darling, you're 

crying ! " 

He took her in his arms then, and with her head upon his 
breast she sobbed away the hateful memories, sobbed out the joy 
and the thanksgiving. 

" I didn't mean to," he said, kissing her hair, "I didn't mean 
to, little one. I might have known it would upset you, you feel 
things so. But someway this had gone so deep with me that I 
wanted you to know it too." 

'It is a strange idea," he mused, after Christine had grown 
quiet ^nd lay there very still in his arms, " a strange and beautiful 
idea which she has conceived. She believes that the joy of the 
world must pay for the world's suffering; that one who has been 
made to suffer must in turn cause joy — cause so much of it that the 
joy will compensate, and will leave the balance of the world still in 
joy's favor. Isn't it wonderful, Christine ?" 


Mark Twain for President 

The interview flourishes in America and 
France, the only two countries which have 
developed it into a literary form. Mr. 
William Archer has been experimenting 
elaborately with it in England, which will 
doubtless soon practice the art more gener- 
ally. That Italy has scarcely learned the 
rudiments is apparent whenever the inter- 
view is attempted. Mark Twain and his 
family arrived in Florence a few weeks 
ago, when he was promptly tracked to his 
hotel and subjected to this modern instru- 
ment of torture or delight. The result 
would bring a smile of gentle pity to our 
journalists, so little did the American 
humorist appear, so much was it routine 
Italian sentiment. The dark-haired daugh- 
ters were turned into blondes to fit the 
picture in the visitor's fancy, and the 
humorist, with his love of familiar dialect, 
was made to talk radiantly about " the 
sunny kiss of the Florence Hills." The 
Italian talked much of the time himself, 
but in the course of his long and poetic 
screed he casually admitted one element 
of news. Mark Twain is to run for 
President. His trip is for the purpose of 
learning a language spoken in America by 
a vast body of voters, the number being 
rapidly increased by the enormous immi- 
gration from Southern Italy. He hopes 
to gain the Italians especially, and enough 
others to secure election, on the platform 
that the best of life consists of a little 
laughter and a little love. We suspect 
the Italian of adding the love, but Mr. 


Clemens was evidently correctly quoted for 
the issue, which would be the gay in poli- 
tics against the tedious. Having divulged 
this candidacy to American readers, we 
expect the party leaders on both sides to 
consider Mr. Clemens seriously. Mr. 
Jerome, in the last New York campaign, 
attacked Mayor Low for deficiency in 
humor, and for being unlovable. An 
observer remarked that Mr. Jerome might 
love something else — his vvife, for instance, 
hired girl, or dog. His other requisite for 
a successful politician will certainly be sup- 
plied when Mark Twain is fairly launched 
in his struggle toward the White House. 
Either Mr. Cleveland or Mr. Roosevelt 
would do for his opponent. As each of 
them is stronger in other virtues than in 
humor, the issue of what is most important 
in a statesman would be fairly raised. — 
Collier's Weekly. 

The Dormant Parental 

Indirectly, the churches will do much to 
amend the present deficiencies if they can 
awaken the dormant parental conscience. 
Since biblical, and even since Puritan, 
times there has been a manifest decay, 
among heads of families, of the sense of 
responsibility in spiritual matters. First 
the father transferred his own share of 
parental duty to the mother, and in many 
cases it has afterwards been passed over 
en bloc to an outsider. In England one of 
the most lamentable features of the present 
educational controversy is the suspicion of 

i'hotograph by Lyonde 

Courtesy of yohn C. ff^inston ^ Co. 



The Booklovers Magazine 


insincerity in the arguments of so many 
Anglican clergy ?nd country squires, who, 
while anxious that the children of the poor 
should have the privilege of a full Chris- 
tian education, send their own sons up to 
Oxford and Cambridge in a condition of 
amazing ignorance respecting the main 
events of scripture history ; and the simi- 
lar inconsistency of so many well-to-do 
Nonconformists, who, while loud in their 
protests against the exposure of the cot- 
tager's family to ultra-ecclesiastical in- 
fluences, allow their own boys and girls 
to obtain much of their religious training 
from Anglican, and even Roman Catholic 
sources. In America no less mischief is 
done to the spread of true religion by the 
spectacle of the church member who de- 
mands that the State shall set up in every 
schoolhouse a light that has not yet been 
kindled within his own home. — Herbert 
W. Horwill in The Atlantic Monthly. 

The Papal Premier 

Monsignor Merry del Val isoneof the 
eminent Churchmen — including Monsig- 
nori Chigi, Czacky, Granito di Belmonte, 
and Cardinal V^aughan — in whose company 
I dined at parties small enough to hear and 
see them well. The new Secretary of 
State at the V^atican is the least homme du 
monde of any of the Monsignori with whom 
I have been acquainted, if we take that 
term in a broad sense, though he is a man 
to shine in an aristocratic drawing-room, 
and could with advantage have figured in 
Disraeli's last novel. But he is the most 
cosmopolitan, perhaps, of all the Monsig- 
nori, and is equally at home in Ireland 
(with which he is connected by his 
mother), in England (also through her), 
and — through long periods of residence — 
in Belgium, Italy, Spain, and France, where 
he has family connections. The facility 
with which he learns languages is almost 
phenomenal, and he speaks and writes the 
tongues of the different countries I have 
named, including Flemish. His father 
represented Spain in Rome and London, 
where Monsignor Merry del Val came out 
at the Coronation as extra Nuncio. He 
had previously gone on a special mission 
to Canada, to settle some thorny matters, 
and succeeded through the help of Sir W. 
Laurier. Leo XIII took a fancy to Mon- 

signor Merry del Val for his refinement, 
innate elegance, and Latinity. He and 
the present Pope were among the few who 
did not set the extremely sensitive nerves 
of the late Pope on an edge. It would be 
hard to say, on being presented to Mon- 
signor Merry del Val, to what nationality 
he belongs. I have seen Spaniards like 
him, yet, were it not for his violet robe, I 
might have taken him for a High Church 
English clergyman. He reminded me of 
the Rev. Mr. Drew, son-in-law of Mr. 
Gladstone, but his eyes had Andalusian 
shape and color. — London Truth. 

"No Thoroughfare!" 

They took a little gravel, 

And they took a little tar. 
With various ingredients 

Imported from afar. 
They hammered it and rolled it, 

And when they went away 
They said they had a pavement 

That would last for many a day. 

But they came with picks and smote it 

To lay a water main ; 
And then they called the workmen 

To put it back again. 
They took it up for wires 

To feed the 'lectric light, 
And then they put it back again, 

Which was no more than right. 

Oh, the pavement's full of furrows; 

There are patches everywhere; 
You'ti like to ride upon it, 

But it's seldom that you dare. 
It's a very handsome pavement, 

A credit to the town ; 
They're always diggin' of it up 

Or puttin' of it down. 

— Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

A Catechism of Civics 

What are the principal products of the 
United States ? 

Historical Novels and Health Foods. 

What other necessities of life are raised ? 

Kentucky Rye and Scotch High Balls. 

Where is the Corn Belt located ? 

It extends from the Chicago Exchange 
to Trinity Church in Wall Street. 

Does the climate vary much in different 
parts of the Union ? 


What is the mean temperature ? 

Where Uncle Russell Sage happens to be. 

What is considered to be the hottest 
region in the country? 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Zioii City. 

And the coldest ? 

John D. Rockefeller's safe deposit vault. 

W'iiat common product is raised in the 
same proportions all over the country ? 


Are there any exceptions to this ? 

Yes. Newport and South Dakota. 

What are these babies used for ? 

In the South, to run the factories. In 
the North, to furnish new Educational 

What are the principal industries of the 
inhabitants of the United States? 

They grow trusts, buy stocks on mar- 
gin, arrd manufacture South Ainerican 

How is the Trust Crop grown ? 

By magnates and the common people. 

What is a magnate ? 

Almost any dishonest man who has 
money enough to keep out of jail. 

And when the common people have 
gathered the Trust Crop, how are they 
paid ? 

In common stock. 

Does this yield anything ? 

Oh, yes. When squeezed, it yields water 
enough to make good circus lemonade. 

What are the principal trades of the 
United States ? 

Operating for appendicitis, writing adver- 
tisement poetry, and going out on strike. 

According to the last census, what was 
the total population ? 

About seventy millions. 

And how are these divided ? 

Into thirty-four million females and the 
rest Presidential candidates. 

WMiat is the color line? 

It is an imaginary line drawn from the 
Tuscaloosa Institute to the White House 
dining-room. — Life. 

When a Fuse Blows Out 

One sees occasionally in the daily press 
an account of the blowing out of the fuse 
on an electric car. Now the greatest 
danger to the passengers in such a case 
lies in the possibility of some unexpected 
happening causing a panic. It is there- 
fore most desirable that everyone should 
know what may be expected to happen 
on a car, and that the happening is not 
necessarily an indication of danger. 

If a steam engine is overloaded, it will 
stop and refuse to work, although the full 
pressure of steam may impinge upon the 
piston, and not cause any danger. On 
the other hand, a motor, when overloaded, 
tries its best to do the work thrown upon 
it. If it can not run at full speed it will 
run at whatever speed it can. As the 
speed decreases, the current through the 
motor increases, and the motor adjusts 
itself to that speed at which the turning 
ef?ort is sufficient to cause rotation and do 
the work. 

The current which will flow through a 
motor when it is standing still is in almost 
all cases far in excess of that which the 
motor is designed to carry; and, indeed, 
in a well-designed motor a current danger- 
ous for the motor will be reached before 
the motor has been stalled. The effect of 
this heavy current on the motor, if allowed 
to continue, is to heat the windings to a 
dangerous degree and destroy the insula- 
tion, possibly setting it on fire; and it is to 
prevent this occurrence, whether due to 
carel<;ss handling of the car or to unex- 
pected causes, that the fuses are used. A 
fuse is simply a short piece of wire of such 
size that it will be melted by a current 
which, if allowed to flow through the 
motor for anytime, will damage it. W^hen 
a fuse blows, then, it simply means that 
one of the safety devices on the car has 
operated to prevent damage to the motor. 
The melting of the fuse opens the circuit 
and cuts ofif the current from the motor. 
To protect the car the fuse is enclosed in 
a fireproof box. 

There is another device for accomplish- 
ing this purpose, which is known as the 
circuit-breaker. This is a switch con- 
trolled by an electromagnet, which opens 
whenever the current reaches a certain 
dangerous value. This mechanism is now 
generally installed upon electric cars in 
addition to the fuse. It is often placed on 
the roof of the platform over the motor- 
man's head, where it is easily reached, 
and it is set to operate at a higher current 
value than the fuse, because the circuit- 
breaker acts almost instantaneously, while 
it takes a little time for the fuse to be 
melted. Now, a motor can stand for a 
second or two a current which would 
destroy it if applieil for a longer period. 
The circuit-breaker, then, takes care of 

The Booklovers Magazine 


heavy overloads, and the fuse protects the 
motor ajjainst those smaller currents which 
are dangerous if apph'ed for a considerable 

When a fuse blows there is generally a 
volatilization of the metal of the fuse and 
a slight explosion. These explosions usu- 
ally cause a report and some smoke. When 
the circuit-breaker is opened it draws an 
electric arc in breaking the circuit, and as 
in this arc a considerable amount of energy 
is dissipated in heating the air, there may 
be here also something of an explosion; 
but in neither case is there any danger to 
the passengers when the apparatus is prop- 
erly installed. The fuse and the circuit- 
breaker are safety devices, the operation of 

which indicates, not that there is danger 
to those on the car, but that danger to 
the motors has been averted. — Electrical 


Major Pond and Beecher 

Major Pond was a sportsman, out and 
out, in the sense that he could play either 
a winning or a losing game ; and if he were 
losing, would never whine, and alwa5'S 
despised men who did. He used to ex- 
plain, with much emphasis and consider- 
able detail, that if he, so to say, sublet the 
lecture to any local agent, he preferred 
that it should be to a theatrical impresario 
rather than to some philanthropic institu- 

Cartoon by 'Bradley 

Courtesy of Chicago Newi 



The Booklovers Magazine 

tioii ; because if the lecture were a great 
success and the philanthropists had made 
a haul, they would still try to knock off a 
dollar here and there, and if the lecture 
hail barely paid, they would at once begin 
to plead for a reduction in charge, while 
the theatrical people, the Major declared, 
were accurate with their accounts to a 
cent, and even if they lost, never dreamt 
of complaining. Win or lose, they knew 
it was in the game, and they took the 
situation like men. They've got their 
faults," the IVlajor used to add, "those 
theatrical managers, but they ain't babies." 

" You won't be discouraged by the 
house," the Major would sometimes say 
in the retiring-room. " The people have 
gathered pretty close to the front," and 
then one came to know that the house 
would be packed to the ceiling. But if 
there were a thin house, the Major would 
fall back on how his hero Beecher met 
that emergency. 

" Not many present ? " Beecher used to 
say. " Well, then. Major, they must have 
the better lecture, a quarter of an hour 

longer, and the finest I have." And the 
Major would add : " The greatest man I 
ever knew. Never was afraid and never 
complained." Beecher had taught his 
friend to be great in the same way, for I 
can bear witness, and still more the greater 
"stars" — for though we were all, accord- 
ing to the Major, "stars," one "star" 
differed from another "star" in glory — 
that the Major never complained. If the 
audience were thin, or the night were bad, 
or the lecturer were not well heard, or the 
profits were small, or the press unfavor- 
able, never would the Major round on his 
"star." He always made the best of 
things, and had a cheery word, like the 
brave old fighter that he was. His pluck 
was unvarying and indomitable. You 
never knew when he was beaten, and in 
my experience he never was beaten. 

Upon the long railway journeys he was 
the best of companions, for he had an in- 
exhaustible store of reminiscences, stories 
of the old frontier days when he was an 
Indian fighter, pointing out from the car 
as we crossed the prairie the river bank on 


SINKS (who hat bren " aiilitej " ovtrfriite, politrly to Bull). AND NOW, WOULD 

— Puntb. 

POI.IIE HUNTER (whoir lun<h hai tuJdtnlf 
bren diiturbtd by lion, wbi<h, havin[ df 
vourrd rvrrythinf, teixrs hit tigar tatt, 
which he hat dropped). ALLOW ME TO 

The Booklovers Magazine 


which they had been nearly ambushed by 
the Indians; describing how he got Hrig- 
ham Young's wife out of Salt Lake City 
and brought her to Washington, in the 
days when to leave the Mormon capital 
without a pass was almost a sentence to 
death ; going over the famous singers and 
literary men he had conducted, with many 
a racy anecdote; or recalling the guerilla 
warfare, when, with a major's command 
of cavalry, he was fighting the Southern 
Irregulars, and when no quarter was given. 
But sooner or later he fell back on the 
great reserve of his conversation, which 
was Henry Ward Beecher. How that 
man could sway congregations of people 
from the pulpit or from the lecture plat- 
form as the corn waves before the wind ; 
how patiently and bravely he endured 
shameful slander and confusion ; how pure 
and big was his heart ; how many and kind 
were his actions. Such themes the Major 
would speak on by the hour, till at last 
he could not contain himself longer, and 
would leave abruptly for the smoking-car 
to do his accounts, with a last word : 
"When the Almighty made that man. He 
broke the mould." — Ian Maclaren in The 
Hindsor Magazine. 

The Quest of the Local 

bear me away on the wings of the night 
And put me in touch with the stars ; 

For it's new local color of which I would write, 
And I think that I'll seek it in Mars. 

I've sco.ired all the earth to its farthest demesne 

For some as-yet-undescribed spot, 
And long have I fared, but yet none have I seen 

Not used long ago in a plot. 

Did I try South America ? Davis has that. 

The Isthmus ? O. Henry's been there. 
The Klondyke ? Jack London, a fierce autocrat. 

Has gobbled the North as his share. 

Kentucky belongs to the mountaineer, Fox ; 

Wvoniing was Wister's on sight ; 
And Parker has Canada's rivers and rocks 

Fenced in by his own copyright. 

1 ride through the mesas and ranges in vain 
In search of some spot in the West 

Which might have escaped "The Virginian's" 
train — 
" Red Saunders " has gobbled the rest. 

Lo, Duncan has left not a comma to write 
On the sad little Newfoundland isle. 

And how can I dream of New England in sight 
Of Mary E. Wilkins's style. 

I fly to the East, and 'midst races of rnen, 
With names unpronounceable, probe 

Till bang against Kipling I come with my pen ; 
For he claims the rest of the globe. 

Then bear me away on ethereal swells 

And put me in toucii with the stars — 
But hold up a minute ! Ihere's Herbert G. 
Already located in Mars. 

— Wallace Jrivin in The "Bookman. 

Respectable Gambling 

The fact that the professional gambler 
is to a large extent a social outcast, plying 
his craft at night and behind steel doors 
and only then with the purchasable con- 
nivance of the authorities, is in itself a 
warning that not even the stupidest can 
fail to observe. Stock speculation, on the 
contrary, hangs out the banner of respect- 
ability — which a great many unthinking 
persons have somehow come to confound 
with morality — and, under its protection, 
carries on its traffic night and day, in ci.y 
streets and village lanes, in parlor and bou- 
doir, in store and in factory — in short, 
wherever it can find a single human being 
possessed of this mania for getting some- 
thing for nothing. Men who would scorn 
to cross the threshold of a gambling house, 
gamble openly in stocks and are not 
ashamed to discuss their ventures in the 
presence of their own children. And with 
every facility for legalized gambling placed 
within reach of even the humblest purse, 
is it to be wondered at that when Wall 
Street ruins a man, it strips him of every- 
thing that he possesses — destroys his busi- 
ness, places a mortgage on his home, eats 
up the trust funds of which he was custo- 
dian, and leaves him naked to the world ? 

On the other hand professional gambling, 
by which I mean the kind that is not 
respectable and exists only through the 
corruption of the police, seldom does more 
than to relieve a man of whatever money 
he may have in his pockets and possibly as 
large a check as the house will accept. 
That men frequently lose large sums at 
faro or roulette is undeniable, but it is not 
often that those games take the roof from 
a player's head and reduce him and his 
whole family to beggary. Moreover — and 
this is something well worth noting — the 
cheerful loser in a first-class gambling- 

Tht Sktuh 



The Booklovers Magazine 


house may refresh himself free of cost 
during the hours of play and even solace 
himself, when all is over, with a really fine 
supper. And if perchance he has set a 
good example to his fellow-players by los- 
ing every cent that he has in his pockets, 
the house will always allow him a dollar or 
two for cab fare home. 

But there is no free supper in Wall 
Street, no cigars or liquors to be had at 
the cost of the market while the ticker 
ticks out its tale of disaster and the tape 
festoons itself about the basket ; and I 
really don't know what would happen if 
you were to ask the broker to whom you 
had lost your entire fortune to lend you 
the amount of an uptown fare on the 
Elevated Road. — James L. Ford in Leslie's 

What Would "Little Mary" 

There has been much discussion 
in London of late as to the hour 
the play should begin. London 
journals have treated the matter as 
it lately has been put on tongue 
and pen, as a result of remarks 
made upon it by Mr. Pinero at 
a dinner given by the Lord Mayor 
to the press. Mr. Pinero, at the 
dinner mentioned, put forward a 
plea for the theatre, declaring that 
the modern hour for dining is 
driving the hour for the play later 
and later. He insisted that " seri- 
ous" playgoers should forego their 
dinners and take " high tea " 
instead, claiming that the lighter 
repast, aside from its economy of 
time, would the surer proinote 
" high thinking." " High tea," 
it has been pointed out, is an 
evening institution of rural Eng- 
land, where early rising begets an 
appetite that must be appeased at 
midday, rather than of London, 
where late rising and the conse- 
quent business rush needs must 
postpone the heavy meal of the 
day until night. Mr. Pinero's 
proposal, as it definitely is stated, 
in fact would tend to work a rev- 
olution in the gastronomic habit 
if it should be acted upon — 

which is not probable. He courageously 
suggested that plays should begin at 
seven o'clock and end at ten, leaving 
time afterward for dinner — or for supper, 
as the Londoners call it — as a supplement 
to the intellect-inspiring brew that he 
names as the proper thing in the circum- 
stances before the theatre. — New York 
Dramatic Mirror. 

Behind the Scenes in 
Mission WorK 

I have heard it said, time and time again, 
that a man's soul — be he tramp or million- 
aire — is priceless, and it is because I believe 
it to be true that I am willing to brave your 
criticism. We have no scruples in speaking 
our minds about politics, labor affairs, com- 
mercial situations, or anything else that is 
of moment to us, but we are afraid to speak 

Houston Post 




I'D like to see the original ok your DECt^KATION OF 

-"you can't, my boy, the INK HAS FADED OUT" 


The Booklovers Magazine 

and to sec straightly the things which are 
veiled by the mantle of self-made righteous-- 
ness. Yef they are the most important 
matters, because they concern men's souls, 
and criticism is allowable because the cap 
need be worn only by those whom it fits. 

The public side of mission work can be 
seen by all ; the nether side is seen only 
by few. I have peeped behind the scenes 
and find that human nature is very much 
the same everywhere. When one has a 
good job he hates to lose it. Leaders of 
missions receive fair salaries and are expec- 
ted to show results in return for them. 
Converts must be made, and that they are 
made can only be proved by the number of 
testimonies. This puts a premium on tes- 
timonies, and this is noticed by those con- 
temptible rascals, the "mission sharks," a 
kind of men possessed of a certain glibness 
and familiarity with Bible texts. This 
narrows itself down to the deduction that 
they who speak well and often receive 
much encouragement, including bed-tick- 
ets, meal-tickets, and cast-of? clothing, 
while the less gifted and less cheeky con- 
vert — although, perhaps, more sincere than 
the other — receives less. 1 am not speak- 
ing at random and am prepared to be 

The fact of the matter is that the sys- 
tem is superannuated and needs revising. 
It has fallen into a rut and has become the 

refuge of a lot of incompetents, who, after 
failing at everything else, are put into this 
business, the most important in the world, 
by influential friends or tired relatives. 
The bright men among the evangelists 
cannot confine themselves to missions in 
the slums, but feel "calls " to speak to the 
masses en masse, and the slave of the slum 
has to be satisfied with the outpourings 
and converting experiments of mediocrities. 
— Owen Kildare in Success. 


FOURTH FOKM BOV (wllh rrtrillrtlhni of a rtcrnl llilt to the Jrnliil) 

Kaleidoscopic Chemistry 

Sir William Ramsay, professor of chem- 
istry at University College, London, who, 
with Lord Rayleigh, separated helium from 
the air, in a lecture before the Royal In- 
stitution made the interesting announce- 
ment that his experiments with radium 
had shown that that element has the 
power of changing by some subtle process 
into another element, namely, helium. 
He described how a long search into the 
problem of what becomes of the minute 
particles with which radium is always part- 
ing was quite lately rewarded. Besides its 
other manifestations, radium constantly 
gives ofi an emanation which seems to 
behave in all respects like a heavy gas. It 
can be collected in tiny flasks, measured, 
weighed, and used to display the charac- 
teristic properties of radium, but it is not 
permanent. In about a month it entirely 
disappears. The question is, "What be- 
comes of it?" Sir VV^illiam has caught 
this emanation in the act of vanishing. 
He found that after it had been collected 
a couple of days its spectrum, which pre- 
viously was entirely unlike any yet 
studied, began to display the typical 
yellow line of helium. In four or 
five days the helium grew brighter, 
and in another week the spec- 
trum of helium was positively 
blazing in the hermetically sealed 
tubes that had been filled with 
the pure emanations or gaseous 
output of radium. In other words, 
one element had been literally 
seen to change into another. 

- This realization of one of the 

oldest of human dreams is very 
—Punch suggestive of transmutation. The 
problem might not be actually 
solved, but it was by no means 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Photofraph hi Elliott 6f Fry 


absurd. Professor Ramsay calculated that 
if radium turned into helium and nothing 
else it would take 2,000,000 years to dis- 
solve into gas, but if helium is only one of 
the substances given off the transmutation 
would be proportionally shorter. He is 
now investigating to learn precisely how 
much helium was produced from the 
radium, what happened in the change and 
how long it took. He pointed out that 
several groups of elements linked together 
by Mendeljefif's periodoc law showed a re- 

markable similarity of properties, tending 
to suggest that the accepted elements were 
not the final forms of matter, and that they 
were ultimately reduced into a few simpler 
forms. He asked if the world was on the 
verge of some great generalization, showing 
that all the so-called elements were merely 
elusive forms of one or two fundamental 
kinds of matter. 

The price of radium has increased ten- 
fold in the last six months, owing to the 
action of the Austrian Government, which 


Thh Booklovers Magazine 

-LesUe^s ff^eekly 




had created a corner therein by refusing to 
allow further exports of refuse from the 
uranium oxide works at Joachimthal. As 
a result, the nominal price of radium is 
about $2SO,ooo for one-fifteenth of an 
ounce. — Electrical World. 

In the Appendix 

Dr. Lines, the new Bishop of Newark, 
has a keen sense of huinor, and has enliv- 
ened many a dinner with bright talks. At 
a recent Chamber of Commerce dinner he 
carried oflf the anecdotal honors with the 
following story : 

"At the time of King Edward's recovery 
from his threatened fatal illness with appen- 
dicitis," he said, "thanksgiving services 
were held all over the kingdom. At one 
of these the services were to close with 
the singing of a well-known hymn which 
happened to be in the back of the books 
used in that parish. 

" 'Let us close the services,' the rector 
said, ' by singing the hymn, "Peace, Per- 
fect Peace" — in the appendix.' " — Newark 
(N. J.) Evening News. 

illustration in the British army 
eclipses all records on this side 
the water. An of?icer had occa- 
sion to use a screw-driver, just 
a plain, ordinary twenty-five-cent 
screw-driver. In a moment of 
rashness he decided not to buy it 
on his own account, but made 
formal application for the imple- 
ment from the supply of the 
Government stores. The request 
for a screw-driver was read, ap- 
proved, indorsed, by one officer 
after another up the long ladder — 
whose rounds were festooned with 
red-tape — until it reached the 
topmost seat of authority, whose 
action was final. There the ap- 
plication was solemnly considered 
and started back on its downward 
path through the various official 
channels, until it reached the 
audacious officer. 
He was informed that screw-drivers were 
supplied only in boxes of tools, and not 
singly. He was not daunted, but, with 
admirable persistence, filled out another 
form, requesting the box of tools, in order 
that he might obtain the screw-driver. 
After the same weary round of delay and 
formality, this application came back. Its 
indorsement stated that boxes of tools 
were only supplied to carpenter shops. 
The patient officer scratched his head, 
and set himself down again to fill out a 
blank application. This time he asked for 
a carpenter shop, and a month later received 
word that a duly equipped and appointed 
carpenter shop would be supplied him. 

Three months from the time he had hap- 
pened to want a screw-driver he received a 
carpenter shop. Through an oversight in 
packing, there was no screw-driver in the 
box of tools. — Collier s Jf'cekly. 

Red Tape by the Mile 

There is red-tape in the methods of the 
American War Department, but for gor- 
geous complication of system, a recent 

"Bearded LiKe the Pard" 

Among bearded celebrities in the polit- 
ical world, the veteran politician, Earl 
Spencer, has carried his flowing beard 
very high for a great number of years — 
through many ups and downs, and 
as a member of various Governments, 
His beard was first cultivated at a 
time when beards were not in fashion; 
and, moreover, it was of a hue that, in 

The Booklovers Magazine 


familiar phraseology, 
might be termed 
" carroty " ; but his 
huge moustaches 
have a graceful and 
^ dignified twist that 
i.^) gives an aristocratic 
appearance to his 
face. The hair on 
his head is massive, 
and long, and well 
brushed, in m i d - 
Victorian style, and 
to add to his lion- 
esque appearance, 
he wears a heavily 
furred top coat. 

The most signifi- 
cant and the best- 
known beard in society, properly so called, 
was that of the Earl of Lathom, the late 
Queen's Lord Chamberlain. What lady is 
there, who was presented at Court during 
the late reign, but can recall to mind that 
large, flowing beard, the gorgeous, richly 
gold-laced coat wMth the wonderful rosette 
on the right hip, in which hangs the magic 
key; the white knee breeches and silk 
stockings and the large patent shoes and 
buckles, that together formed so promi- 
nent a figure on the eventful day. Apart 
from a glimmering recollection of Her late 
Majesty a vivid recollection of the struggle 
to get the right glove ofif in time, and of 
the panic when the train would not go 
right, there is nothing connected with 
the presentation at Court that debutantes 
of ten years ago re- 
member more clearly 
than the well-groomed 
beard of the Lord 

The Kaiser's mous- 
tache, with its up- 
turned ends, is inter- 
esting, and some people 
are asking whether 
there is any danger of 
its invading and con- 
quering the British 
army. This would be 
the last straw — I mean 
the last hair — on the 
back of our military 
camel. There is a 
strong feeling even 

now, among 
army men, 
against Ger- 
man usages 
in the English 
army. There 
i s absolutely 
no external 
difiference now 
between the 
German and 
the English 
officer. The 
German cap, 
the long Ger- 
man frock 
coat, the tight 
trousers — 
every seam, every button of the costume 
is German. It only needs the German 
Emperor's style of moustache to complete 
the transformation. 

There is a similar fascination to some 
men in having the beard cut in eccentric 
fashion. This is true not only of idle 
men, with nothing else to think about 
beside their personal appearance, but also 
of some of the busiest men in the world of 
commerce and of politics. I know a busi- 
ness man who works night and day and 
never has a minute to spare away from his 
work for any pleasure or idle companion- 
ship; yet he will spend two whole hours 
at his barber's having his hair and beard 
attended to. 

As an illustration of what I mean, take 
Sir Donald Currie, a man well known in 
Parliament and a giant 
in the shipping world. 
What an amount of 
thought and time he 
must have expended 
daily on that beard, 
cut in a most erratic 
way, yet dressed with 
artistic care and ten- 
derness. At seventy- 
five years of age his 
working-day was not 
limited to a few hours 
in the city. He was 
not ashamed to take 
a black bag with him 
to the House of Com- 
mons, to continue his 
work there with the 


The Booklovers Magazine 

aid of a private secretary. Yet with all these 
weighty matters to occupy his time, he 
can spare some of it for attention to so 
light a thing as his hair, and once seen 
is remembered long. — Harry Furness in 
Pearson s. 

A Newly Married WoiTian's 
Peace of Soul 

The basis of a newly married woman's 
peace of soul is trust. She feels that the 
responsibility is on her husband to make 
good the manly qualities with which she 
has endowed him, and because of which 
she has consented to become his mate. 

Nevertheless, no woman emerges from 
her honeymoon with exactly the same 
estimate of her lover as before. If nothing 
else, she has seen his mental and moral 
characteristics in their undress, so to speak, 
and become habituated to their sublimity. 
We may be no less fond of a person whose 
anecdotes have grown familiar to us, and 
analogously a wife does not weary of her 
husband's qualities merely because they 
have lost the glamor of novelty. On the 
contrary she is apt to continue to adore 
them because they are his. Still she feels 
free to scrutinize them closely and — un- 
consciously at least — to submit them to 
the test of her own silent judgment. She 
discovers, too, of course, that he has sides 
and idiosyncrasies the existence of which 
she never suspected. Ordinarily she finds 
to her surprise that his attitude in regard to 
this or that matter has shifted perceptibly 
since marriage, so that, instead of being 
lukewarm or ardent, as the case may be, 
he has become almost strenuous or indif- 
ferent in his attitude. Hence she divines 
that during their courtship some of his 
real opinions and tendencies have been 
kept in retreat. — From " T/ieUn^erci/rrerit" 
by Robert Grant in Scribner's Ala^azine. 

Feeling the Pulse of Wall Street 

In the five years I was in Wall Street 
in active newspaper work I had the good 
fortune to meet, time and again, all the 
leaders there, some now gone, some now 
living. Some were easy to "get at"; 
some difficult at first, easy afterward ; some 
always difficult. In the "always difficult 
class" may be set down E. H. Harriman, 

William Rockefeller, and H. H. Rogers. 
Mr. Harriman was so because the attend- 
ant at his office invariably refused to take 
in the newspaper man's card ; William 
Rockefeller, because he was never "in"; 
H. H. Rogers for the reason that before 
one could see him one had to run the 
gauntlet first of an attendant, then an 
acolyte higher up in the scale, and, finally, 
of a woman private secretary — the only 
female secretary, to my knowledge, in the 
office of a Wall Street leader, and one who 
by her sphinx-like demeanor and policy, if 
nothing else, earns the $10,000 yearly 
salary she is understood to draw. If any 
editor or reporter, past, present, or future, 
has been, is, or will be able to get any 
information from this secretary he ought 
to chronicle it as among the modern 

When I was in the Street, and working 
as I conceive every newspaper man ought 
to work, free from the "combine," I had 
the good fortune to see Mr. Morgan many 
times, and to get from him, as exclusive, 
the only two expressions in respect to the 
stock market and its probable future given 
by him in five years. The last of these 
was the interview in which appeared the 
now-famous phrase " Undigested Securi- 
ties." In this connection it may be well 
to correct a popular misconception as to 
the origin of this phrase. When I saw 
Mr. Morgan on this occasion he at first 
refused absolutely to discuss the market or 
its prospects, and it was only after recall- 
ing to him that his former statement tome 
had lifted the market out of the slough of 
despond that he consented to talk. Then 
ensued a fifteen-minute conversation, with 
Mr. Morgan interjecting semi-occasionally 
a reminder that the talk was for my per- 
sonal guidance as a writer and not for 
publication. I took no notes, for I had 
learned by expeiicnce that financiers are 
wary of men who take notes — I mean 
newspaper notes. When Mr. Morgan had 
finished talking, and had answered several 
questions put by me to him, I said: "Now, 
Mr. Morgan, why shouldn't I publish this ? 
You feel strongly on the subject. Why 
not let the public know your sentiments ? " 
Whereupon Mr. Morgan, after a moment's 
hesitation and some discussion with me as 
to the advisability of the step, replied, 
" Well, my boy, if you can make anything 

Courtesy of The Scientific American 




The Booklovers Magazine 

out of it go and try it, and let me see what 
you can do." Whereupon 1 sat down and 
wrote a seven-page interview, which, before 
it came again to my hands, was read by 
Mr. Morgan six times, and was then passed 
on to Charles Steele, the legal member of 
the firm, to see, as Mr. Morgan said, " if 
it was legally expressed." As a financial 
writer I was flattered when it was handed 
back to me without a word or syllable 

And here I may say — and it cannot be 
violating a confidence — that the news- 
papers of the country and all others were 
in grievous error in crediting Mr. Morgan 
with the authorship of the phrase." Undi- 
gested Securities." That phrase I had 
first read in a financial article in the London 
Times, and it was the "patness" of the 
expression more than anything else that 
prompted me to see Mr. Morgan and ask 
him as to it and its significance, if any, 
from the American standpoint. Hence the 
incorporation in the interview of the phrase 
" Undigested Securities," a phrase that 
in the end worked more to the hurt than 

to the help of the stock market, though 
on the appearance of the interview on the 
following day prices opened up from one 
to two points and the whole course of the 
market was turned for some days. — fV. R. 
Givens in The Independent. 

Where Fanatics Flourish 

1 his country appears to be exposed to 
fanaticisin for reasons peculiar to the 
American people. It is the most con- 
glomerate large nation on the globe. The 
freedom allowed and exercised, the in- 
cessant experimenting, the extraordinary 
genius of the people for free and full 
speech, the immense proportion of half- 
educated persons, the publication ol all 
sorts of truths, half-truths, err'04; and 
chimeras, the importation of al' serts in 
religion by immigrants from all lanu the 
method of carrying on political campaigns 
— municipal, state, and federal — \r-A the 
press and the mails, by a house-to-bfouse 
canvass, and by countless speeches ander 
exciting circumstances, by alarming proph- 

t»^ ?^ii^ 


The Booklovers Magazine 


ecies, attacks on personal and political 
character, and the scattering of distorted 
statements far and wide, might naturally 
be expected to generate fanaticism. 

Here scores of communities of fanatics 
have been formed and have long prospered, 
several of them based upon ideas incom- 
patible with morality. Here modern Spirit- 
ualism arose, and spread as in no other 
part of the world. Here Mormonism 
originated; a religion which, after the 
lapse of sixty years, in spite of the opposi- 
tion it has encountered, shows elements of 
permanence, and sends out missionaries to 
all par:s of the world. Here the spectac- 
ular Dowie exercises a despotism over his 
adhere »vhich becomes grotesque when 
at his rail they rise by the hundreds and 
furnis testimony he needs, whether to 
the soundness of his views on the eating 
of por , his financial ability, his miraculous 
healin-^s.or his being the special messenger 
who WuS to come in the spirit and power 
of Elijah. Here Mrs. Eddy succeeds in 
fascinating large numbers by a copyrighted 
system in which she claims to destroy dis- 
ease without depending in the least on 
hygiene or medical treatment, and to 
eradicate sin and disease by steadfastly 
denying their reality. Her organization 
being perfected, she now rules by Delphic 
oracles and Sibylline leaves issued by a 
secluded personality, inaccessible to the 
many, though at rare intervals exhibited 
at state fairs as a passing show, to demon- 
strate her actuality. Her head is already 
surrounded by halos of mist and myth, and 
the exalted few who mediate between her 
and the world increase the effect by the 
under-breath reverence with which they 
speak or write of her. Hence, although 
she has been compelled by her failures and 
those of her followers to surrender the 
treatment of physical injuries to the sur- 
geons and to cease from treating conta- 
gious diseases ; and though through the 
whole land many of her devotees, having 
thrown away the learning and experience 
of mankind in treating diseases, are dying 
or making pitiful denials of their obvious 
debility, disease, or the natural effects of 
age, such of them as are in good health, 
and some who are not (many of them 
highly intelligent on themes and things 
outside this subacute fanaticism), smile 
and prattle on concerning the "errors of 

mortal mind" as respects Bright's disease, 
the "claims" of consumption, the "false 
belief" in bile, and the "delusions" of 
dropsy and dyspepsia. — Dr. J, M, Buckley 
in The Century Magazine. 

No Escape 

Boracic acid in the soup. 

Wood alcohol in wine. 
Catsup dyed a lurid hue 

By using aniline ; 

The old ground hulls of cocoanuts 

Served to us as spices ; 
I reckon crisp and frigid glass 

Is dished out with the ices. 

The milk — the kind the old cow gives 

Way down at Cloverside — 
It's one-third milk and water, and — 

And then — formaldehyde. 

The syrup's bleached by using tin. 

And honey's just glucose, 
And what the fancy butter is 

The goodness gracious knows. 

The olive oil's of cotton seed, 

There's alum in the bread ; 
It's really a surprise to me 

The whole durned race ain't dead. 

Meantime all the germs and things 

Are buzzing fit to kill ; 
If the food you eat don't git you, 

The goldarned microbes will. 

— Neixi Orleans Times -Democrat. 

The Wil> Advertiser 

Advertisements are sometimes spoken of 
as the nervous system of the business world. 
That advertisement of musical instruments 
which contains nothing to awaken images 
of sound is a defective advertisement. 
That advertisement of foods which con- 
tains nothing to awaken images of taste is 
a defective advertisement. As our nervous 
system is constructed to give us all the pos- 
sible sensations from objects, so the adver- 
tisement which is comparable to the ner- 
vous system must awaken in the reader as 
many different kinds of images as the 
object itself can excite. 

A person can be appealed to most easily 
and most effectively through his domina- 
ting imagery. Thus one who has visual 
images that are very clear and distinct 
appreciates descriptions of scenes. The 
one who has strong auditory imagery 
delights in having auditory images awak- 


The Booklovers Magazine 

ened. It is in general best to awaken as 
many different classes of images as possible, 
for in this way variety is given, and each 
reader is appealed to in the sort of imagery 
which is the most pleasing to him, in which 
he thinks most readily, and by means of 
which he is most easily influenced. 

One of the great weaknesses of the 
present day advertising is found in the fact 
that the writer of the advertisement fails 
to appeal thus indirectly to the senses. 
How many advertisers describe a piano so 
vividly that the reader can hear it? How 
many food products are so described that 
the reader can taste the food ? How many 
advertisers describe a perfume so that the 
reader can smell it ? How many describe 
an undergarment so that the reader can 
feel the pleasant contact with his body ? 
M any advertisers seem never to have thought 



LITTLE iMlTHr.Ri [,wbo hat lairn a groutt moor In S(ollanj): 

of this, and make no attempt at such 

The cause of this deficiency is twofold. 
In the first place, it is not easy in type to 
appeal to any other sense than that of 
sight. Other than visual iinages are d\i¥i- 
cult to awaken when the means employed 
is the printed page. In the second place, 
the individual writers are deficient in cer- 
tain forms of mental imagery, and therefore 
are not adepts in describing articles in 
terms which to themselves are not signifi- 
cant. — Walter T>. Scott in The Atlantic 

"The Burden of Ethiopia" 

To those who, among the passionate 
cries of the moment, have preserved the 
pride of independent opinion, the follow- 
ing view of the present situ- 
ation may commend itself for 
serious reflection : The colored 
people originally brought here 
by force, are here to stay. The 
scheme to transport them back 
to Africa is absolutely idle. 
If adopted, its execution would 
be found practically impossible. 
To transport ten millions of 
negroes across the sea would 
require ten thousand voyages of 
ships carrying one thousand 
passengers each. The bulk of 
the colored population will re- 
main in the South, where the 
climate is more congenial to 
them and where they can more 
profitably devote themselves to 
productive work. It would be 
a great economic embarrassment 
to the South if that working 
force disappeared from its fields. 
Under the fundamental law of 
the country they are no longer 
slaves, but free men. They 
have the aspirations of free 
men. According to the intent 
of the same law, they are also 
citizens and voters. Whether 
it would or would not have been 
wiser to emancipate them grad- 
ually and to withhold the right 
of voting from them, or to in- 
troduce them by degrees into 
the body of voters, is no longer 


Tie Sktith 


Photograph by Bollinger 



The Booklovers Magazine 

the question. Regrettable as this may be, 
we have to face actual circumstances. The 
fact we have to deal with is that by the rec- 
ognized intent of the National Constitution 
they are as much entitled to the right of suf- 
frage as white men are. It has been sug- 
gested that the fourteenth and fifteenth 
amendments of the National Constitution, 
embodying the provisions referred to, be 
done away with by further amendment ; 
but leaving aside the question whether as 
a matter of right this should be done, I 
doubt whether a single well-informed man 
can be found in the country who thinks it 
possible that the required three-fourths 
of the States will ever consent to such a 
repeal. To discuss the visionary coloniza- 
tion scheme or the equally impossible 
repeal of the fourteenth and fifteenth 
amendments means, therefore, not only to 
squander time and breath, but to divert 
the popular mind from the true problem 
and from the real possibilities of its solu- 
tion. It must, to start with, be taken as a 
certainty that the negroes will stay here 
and that the thirteenth, fourteenth, and 
fifteenth amendments will stand, and if 
they are to be made inoperative at all, it 
must be by means of a sort of tricky strat- 
agem in flagrant violation of the spirit of 
the Constitution. Such stratagems are 
usually not approved by conscientious per- 
sons, and they cannot be resorted to by a 
people without a mischievous lowering of 
the standard of public morals and an 
impairment of self-respect. 

This is evidently a political and social 
position which cannot continue to exist 
without constant and most unwholesome 
irritation and restlessness. Such as it is, 
it cannot possibly be permanent. The 
colored people will be incessantly disturbed 
by the feeling that they are unjustly deprived 
of their legal rights and have become the 
victims of tyrannical oppression. The 
thoughtful and self-respecting among the 
whites will be ashamed of that state of 
things, and dissatisfied with themselves for 
tolerating it. The reckless among the 
white population, the element most subject 
to the passions fomented and stirred by a 
race-antipathy, and most responsive to the 
catch-phrases of the demagogue, will 
understand it as a justification of all the 
things done to put down the negro, and 
as an incitement to further hostilities. 

And here is the crucial point : There will 
be a movement either in the direction of 
reducing the negroes to a permanent con- 
dition of serfdom — the condition of mere 
plantation hand, "alongside of the mule," 
practically without any rights of citizenship 
— or a movement in the direction of rec- 
ognizing him as a citizen in the true sense 
of the term. One or the other will prevail. 
— Hon. Carl Schurz in McClure's. 

The Kind of Education - 
We Need 

There are two extreme views concern- 
ing the effects of education upon public 
morality. One is held by the advocates 
of secular schools ; the other is held by the 
advocates of church schools. This sharp 
division of opinion is not peculiar to 
America. It i? felt in every country 
where modern education and modern 
thought prevail. I do not believe that 
improvement is to be sought by substitut- 
ing religious instruction for secular instruc- 
tion, or by superadding one to the other 
as though the two were separate. I do 
not believe that you can prepare a man 
for citizenship by teaching a godless 
knowledge in one part of the school time 
and a set of religious principles in an- 
other — any more than you can prepare a 
man for heaven by letting him cheat six 
days of the week and having him listen to 
the most orthodox doctrines on the sev- 
enth. I believe that both in school life 
and in after life the moral training and the 
secular training must be so interwoven 
that each becomes a part of the other. 
The supposed antithesis between secular 
training and religious training arises from 
a misconception of what is involved in 
good training of any kind. People see the 
difference between bad secular education 
and bad religious education, and they 
assume that there must be a corresponding 
difference between good secular education 
and good religious education. This is by 
no means the case. VV^hen a master of a 
public school is occupied only with teaching 
facts and principles, and when a master of 
a religious institution is occupied only 
with teaching dogmas and observances, 
they necessarily work at cross purposes ; 
but the mere learning of facts and princi- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


pies is not the vitally important part of 
secular education, nor is the learning of 
doctrines and observances the vitally im- 
portant part of religious education. The 
formation of habits of discipline and the 
development of ideals of usefulness is the 
essentially important thing in a good 
education of either kind. When we have 
grasped this truth we shall see that there 
is in the field of education the same har- 
mony between the true needs of the 
world and the true needs of the Church 
which exist in every other department of 
human life. — President Hadley in The 

"A Lath Painted to Look 
LiKe Iron" 

Even among his own ministers I think 
it safe to affirm that the Czar is not looked 
upon as a capable man. Not long ago it 
was said of him that he seemed to have all 
the qualities of a charming woman. The 
repeated reports that he is going into mel- 
ancholy seem intended to pave the way for 
his abdication or for his assassination or 
deposition. It is certain that the feel- 
ing against him has been growing, and 
whether his recent ukase will improve this 
seems a question. It may pave the way 
for his assassination, as the 
liberation of the serfs did in 
the case of his grandfather. 

The constant state of appre- 
hension of all men in high station 
is shown by the precautions 
taken by them. In going to 
call on one of the Czar's min- 
isters at his house in the suburbs 
of St. Petersburg at the hour 
appointed by him, I was met 
as I left my carriage by his 
man. I followed him to the 
door, which he locked in my 
face while he presented my 
card. The minister then came 
to the door himself to receive 
me. And this minister was 
the only man whom I met in 
Russia who was not looking 
forward to a revolution inside 
of fifty years, the furthest limit 
set by any one whom I met. 

Last summer the governor 
of the Province of Ufa was 

murdered, and not long ago the lives of 
the Minister of Education and of the Proc- 
urator of the Holy Synod were attempted, 
and within the last few months that of 
the governor of Tiflis, so that there are 
manifest reasons for precautions. Russia 
has advanced so far towards representative 
government that it is now the ministers 
of the Czar whose lives are sought instead 
of that of the Czar himself. — A'^. T. Bacon 
in The Yale Review. 

Where our Organ=Grinders 
Come From 

It was a strange sound which awoke 
me. Paradoxically, it was something very 
familiar, but the strangeness of it lay in 
that I was in Italy under the roof of a 
humble family in the little mountain town 
of Gualtieri-Sicamino, Sicily, and yet clear 
and sweet, very distinct in the air of the 
early morning, a boy's voice high up in 
the terraced vineyards on the slope before 
the town was singing: 

" Who was it called them down ? 

'Twas Mister Dooley, brave Mister Dooley, 
The finest man this country ever knew ; 


Oh ! Mister Dooley — ooley — ooley — oo. 

SimpUcittimut {Munich) 


Coffrlihl, IQ03. hy lite Publiihint Co. 

Count t) of Lift 


The Booklovers Magazine 


Then there broke forth the chatter of 
the men, women, and children who were 
gathering grapes, and had stopped to Hsten 
to an American song. The boy had been 
in America two years, his father had con- 
tracted consumption working on the New 
York subway, and the family had returned 
that he might recover in the balmy air of 
Sicily. One day the boy told me that as 
soon as he was big enough (he is eight 
years old) he was going to run away to 
America, because he could make more 
money selling papers after school than he 
could working all day in the fields in 
Gualtieri, and here he "never had no 
time for no fun." 

The spirit of this incident is the spirit 
which today stirs all Italy, all Greece, all 
Syria, all Hungary and Roumania, and 
has spread deep into the hearts of the 
people of the whole of southern Europe. 
The eyes of the poor are turned with 
longing fancy to " New York." That is 
the magic word everywhere. 

The people have no true conception of 
America, though Italy is flooded with 
books of views principally of New York 
and the Pan-American Exposition, and 
there is a brave eflfort made by the Italians 
in America to write home adequate de- 
scriptions of the new land. Once I was 
called upon to settle a most bitter and 
acrimonious dispute between two men as 
to what America was like. One, who 
had a brother in Wilkesbarre, Pa., thought 
it was all coal mines, steel mills, and rail- 
roads, while the other, whose cousin 
worked in a New York barber shop, 
maintained that America was all high 
buildings and railroads which run over the 

When I say that ninety-four per cent, 
of the production in southern Italy is agri- 
cultural and that the one source of wealth 
is the cultivation of the soil, and the con- 
trol of all this wealth lies in the ownership 
of the soil, it can be understood how and 
why the poor farmer, who has heard what 
conditions are in the United States, will 
borrow money at twenty per cent, for six 
months to get himself or a son over to 
America, in order to establish a foothold 
from which he can broaden a space of 
relief and liberty. 

If the Italian government did not favor 
and encourage emigration for any other 

reason, it would do so because the millions 
of dollars that are sent back to Italy every 
year have renovated many of the country 
districts, really transformed them from 
squalor to beauty, have recovered bank- 
rupt municipalities, and annually insure 
a great increase in the volume of paid 
taxes. — 'Broughton 'Brandenburg in Leslie's 

A KicR from the Kaiser 

On the occasion of his visit to Castle 
Sigmaringen the Kaiser twitted me about 
my being a poet. 

Said the Kaiser; "To me a woman 
who writes is a ridiculous being. Clever 
women are dangerous women, one and 
all, who ought to be muzzled before they 
can bite. But do you believe it is neces- 
sary to be a clever one in order to be a 
woman who writes ? On the contrary 
women's cleverness consists in avoiding 
ridicule, and clever women care for their 
good looks. Now, can a woman who 
writes remain pretty ? The gestures, the 
attitude of a woman scrawling away with 
all her might, rout every aesthetical effort 
on her part. Can a woman remain pretty 
when she is obliged to put on that particu- 
larly stern frown with which one pursues 
an idea or studies any serious and important 
subject?" The Emperor stopped, evi- 
dently waiting for a confused or spirited 
answer, then resumed : " Now you are 
very intelligent, much more than I could 
have believed possible in a woman who 
writes. You are actually as smiling, as 
cool, as unaffected as if I had not wounded 
your highest notions of womankind — per- 
haps your own self-love." 

" I have no self-love, sire, but very firm 
convictions that nothing can defeat." 

"Anyhow, you are very good-natured, 
and are neither pretentious nor forward. 
I am going to concede one or two points 
to you, though you do not seem to care 
whether I esteem pushing women or not. 
Music and painting may render a woman's 
existence very happy and beneficial to her 
family, and — well, I will allow that a 
woman is not quite unsexed by being a 
poet. Women are unreasonable; so are 
poets. Women are born to comfort and 
to enhance the joy of living ; so are poets. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Well, a poet you may remain, without 
exasperating me completely." 

" I thank your Majesty for his gracious 
permission." — Helene Vacaresco in The 

Theory vs. Practice 

A fisherman invested in a tub so very old 

A single drop of water in its staves it would not 

Said he: " 'Tis very plain to me a vessel of this 

Would make the safest fishin'-smack a fisherman 

could find. 
What matters if a barr'l of brine should o'er the 

gunwale slop, 
This ancient tub would keep afloat — it couldn't 

hold a drop." 
Which as a bit of logic you'll admit is good and 

sound : 
But when it came to practice — why, the fisherman 

was drowned ! 

— Peter Nexuell in Harper^s Magazine. 

Marvellous "Stunts" on 

Those who have not experienced the 
sensations of toboganning, or witnessed a 
race, cannot possibly realize how intensely 
exciting such a run can be. As each 
corner is approached the rider imagines it 
must be his last. He feels as if he were 
being drawn to the side of the track and 
over the bank by an irresistible magnetic 
force, and yet he struggles on, while the 
pace quickens as he rushes down the track 
of ice, half insensible at times, yet instinc- 
tively doing the right thing at the right 
moment. The first sharp corner is suc- 
cessfully taken. On he flies towards a 
dreaded zigzag. A few vigorous efforts, 
a sharp dig with the toe-rake, a moment 
of fear and expectation, and once more he 
has the straight road before him. There 
is no time to think of the past success, 
for there are more obstacles to conquer. 
A nasty corner, the sharpest of all, is still 
to come. Here it is, only a few yards off. 
His rakes crash down, a strong muscular 
effort, a desperate shove, a shuffle, a short 
moment of suspense, and it is passed like 
a shot. Now for the final wild rush down 
the last straight run. A few seconds 
more, and the last corner is reached. A 
repetition of the last manreuvre brings him 
round. Yet a few yards, and he glides 
swiftly past the winning post. 

It is, of course, neither possible nor 
desirable to make the track in one straight 
line ; in fact, the number and the great 
difficulty of the curves form the chief 
attraction of the " Cresta " to riders as 
well as spectators. Some particularly 
interesting parts of the track are shown in 
the photographs on the next page. The 
rider begins his plunge down a dizzy grade 
at a terrific speed, passing on the way 
some very nasty corners close together 
about half way down the run, where he 
will experience some shaking and tossing ; 
and reaches the great leap at the end, 
where the toboggan, if it is travelling 
fast enough, for a few seconds flies 
through the air with its occupant cling- 
ing to it. This is one of the most 
exciting moments even to the ordinary 
rider, whose leap will probably not be 
considerable. But what must have been 
the sensations of the champion leaper, 
who established the wonderful record of a 
sixty-six-foot jump! It will no doubt be 
of interest, to those who know toboganning 
only by hearsay, to know that the speed at 
this part of the course is sometimes as 
much as seventy miles an hour. Two 
well-known riders were once timed over 
the last fifty yards of the course ; they 
covered it at the rate of sixty-seven miles 
an hour. — J. Pitcairn-Knowles in Outing. 

"It is the First Step That 

After all is said and done, the bottom 
of our political distress is social "skittish- 
ness " about the caucus. Ninety per cent, 
of the electorate feel that it is an uncon- 
genial place. Class conceit will not mix 
there any more than it does in countries 
of aristocratic pretension. This is the 
great American problem — how to get all 
the electorate into the initiative. Right 
there men who have worked faithfully 
and practically for reform have found our 
weak spot. Considering that the caucus 
is the very f(Etus of the body politic, it 
can be said that Americans have practically 
abandoned self-government. 

The American sovereign must, for one 
hour a year, sacrifice his pride. Every- 
thing has been done by the workers to 
torture the " nicer" class away from their 
homes to the caucus and primary, but 

Courtesy of Outing 


Courtety of Outing 



The Booklovers Magazine 

without success. From eighty to ninety 
per cent, are childish to the beginnings of 
law and government — the caucus and 
primary — which, in their limitations, are 
the natural hatchery and field of the 
"grafter." Permanent and cultured 
residents will not leave their well-garnished 
firesides, their libraries, social diversions, 
churches, and occupations to rub shoulders 
with their humbler fellow citizens in this 
only forum and fair field of the republic. 

A democratic republic is not a success 
in our great American cities on account 
of the social diversities and mercenary 
motives, inherent in segregated human 
nature, that have always and in every 
land divided the people. All European 
governments are based upon the unre- 
liability of the masses. A constitution 
cannot make companions of the gentle- 
man and the boor. Our country at large, 
where the better class reach the govern- 
ment through the town meetings, is all 
right, but the cities and the minor poli- 
tics that involve directly our peace are not 
under the control of the more conservative 
and competent citizens. Indeed, the 
absence from the caucus and the primaries 
of the scientists, authors, merchants, 
inventors, bankers, professional men gen- 
erally, clergymen, builders, engineers, and 
all who make up the grandeur of the 
nation, is glaringly marked. Just the 
reverse ought to be the fact. Politics 
abhor a vacuum ; where the good keeps 
out the bad rushes in. William T. Stead 
has flung to us the taunt that " the Irish- 
man lands penniless at Castle Garden, 
and in a generation dominates." He 
dominates what Americans turn their 
backs on. 

The way to cure all political evils, and 
for the most part social evils, is for all the 
voters to be in at the beginnings. The 
caucus should be made official and popu- 
lar, and sustained by the precept and 
example of the best men. That is what 
makes our village governments models for 
the city governments in economy and 
decency. This we must do or continue 
to drift away from the design of our insti- 
tutions. What was the use of dethroning 
our king, unless we were willing to take 
up his duty? As a government by the 
people must be by parties, the work of 
each party is outlined in the caucus. We 

are not yet morally developed for holy 
spontaneity. The primaries, conventions, 
and elections are only the perfunctory 
ratifications of plans of bosses, who are 
efficiently backed by their subsidized 
heelers in the caucus whose sway it is 
impossible to upset by any impromptu 
action of the people. — IVilliam Hemstreet 
in Guntons Magazine. 

A Toast 

Here's to the hostess who has worried all day, 
And trembled lest everything go the wrong way. 
May the grace of contentment possess her at once, 
May her guests — and her servants — all do the 
right " stunts." 

— Francis IVilson in Good Housekeeping. 

Raising Plants Without Soil 

The greatest of all Professor Nobbe's 
work is his remarkable discovery of a 
method for inoculating the soil with bac- 
teria to make it yield richly where it lay 
barren before. In times past investigators 
of soil culture devoted most of their 
time and attention to studying the compo- 
sition of various kinds of soil, to the 
improvement of fertilizers, and in suggest- 
ing new systems of drainage and water- 
supply. Professor Nobbe has gone a step 
further in advance, declaring that plants 
will grow, under certain conditions, just 
as well without soil as with soil. At first 
glance this may seem strange enough, yet 
there are trees from eight to ten inches in 
circumference at the base of the trunk, 
growing in clean water, without a sign of 
soil of any description. They stand in 
rows just back of the Forest Academy and 
near Professor Nobbe's greenhouse. Each 
tree is suspended in a large glass jar sur- 
rounded by a green-painted case. When 
this case is opened one may look through 
the glass and see the roots of the tree 
hanging there in clean water. The oldest 
of the trees was planted, or rather the seed 
was immersed in water, in 1878, and it 
has grown to full size without ever touch- 
ing soil. Leaves and blossoms have come 
in the spring, and in the winter the water 
and the roots have frozen solid all these 
years, and the tree still thrives. Indeed, 
some of its seeds were immersed in water, 
and trees of the second generation have 




The Sphere 



The Booklovers Magazine 

been grown to considerable size. Then 
their seeds were immersed, and there are 
now growing small trees three generations 
removed from the soil — certainly a clear 
proof of Professor Nobbe's assertion that 
actual contact with soil is not essential for 
plant growth. In order to produce such 
results, however, it was necessarv to keep 
the trees supplied with artificial food. This 
Professor Nobbe prepared in his laboratory 
— a certain definite amount of chlorate of 
potash, sulphate of magnesium, phosphate 
of iron, phosphate of potassium, and a 
nitrate. A small quantity of this mixture 
was dissolved in the water of the jars every 
four weeks, and thus the trees have been 
kept flourishing all these years, showing 
that there was no element in the soil 
necessary to plant growth that man could 
not manufacture at will. — R. S. Baker in 
Harper' s Magazine. 

To Entertain a Friend 

But how shall we entertain the visiting 
friend ? Chiefly by letting him alone. 
Only the featherweights feel that they 
must be talked to all the time, shown 
about, "entertained." Such a person 
would complain of being forlorn if left 
alone with the nightingale in the Forest 
of Ardcn ; of being desolate if set down 
among the " marble brede " in the gardens 
of the Vatican. Let such persons perish 
of their own emptiness. Give the guest 
the freedom of the house and the gift of 
stillness if he wishes it. Let h'n follow 
his heart's desire. Let him find something 
to do for himself. So shall he find joy, 
and leave behind him a pleasant memory 
when he goes, some mark of his individ- 
uality; even as old Montaigne, gallantly 
visiting every prince along his route, 
always left his coat of arms behind him for 
remembrance. — Edwin Markham in Good 

"The Five Notions" 

He has (irnmmeil his creed in The Times, 
Ik- has made tlie government squirm; 

He has done new crimes with the same old rhymes 
And llic Hopping of feet infirm. 

But make ye no truce with tlie anapest, the metre 
that walks like a worm. 

I have notions five in my pack, 

As I plod on the poet's way; 
Five notions in all which come at my cal!, 

And every one sure to pay. 
There's the Briton who lives at home, 

And the Briton who lives abroad, 
The Briton at sea, and God, and me — 

Three Britons, and me, and God. 

Oh, the good 'ome-lovin' Briton likes 'is own 
especial hearth ; 
'E's domestic and 'e loves 'is fi-er-side ; 
So 'e sends an army roamin' over all the bloomin' 

And 'e ships 'is little navy into every bay and 
'Cause 'e loves 'is 'ome, but likes to 'ave it 
wide, wide, wide ; 
'Cause 'e loves 'is little island, loves the country 
of 'is birth, 
And other people's place o' birth beside. 

Chinamen are but heathen, niggers are not of 

Germans are Dutch and the French not much, 

and the Russians beastly odd ; 
But the man of worth over all the earth is the 

Briton that goes abroad. 
No doubt but we are the people and we say 

acceptable things. 
But foreigners speak with a foreign speech and 

bow to their foreign kings. 
Our blood is thicker than water, and our speech 

is thicker than ink. 
And thick is the skin we are born within and 

thick are the things we think ; 
But our speech is the speech of the English, 

and that is the speech of God, 
And the godliest sound above the ground is 

the speech of the Briton abroad. 

Clap goes the yap of my dinky little sailormen, 
Ripping out their chanties in a lingo learned 
from me. 

They spit into the ditch, 
And give their pants a hitch. 
And sing the right of England to the whole 
eternal sea. 


Ay, these are my Britons three. 

All over the earth's broad face, 
At home and abroad and at sea, 

I sing the song of my race. 
The God of a million stars 

I bring from His seat on high, 
For the special patron of British deeds. 
Who shows Him cleariv the path He leads ? 

("Book! Buy Book!") Even I! 

He has drummed his creed in The Times, 
He has made the government squirm; 
He has done new crimes with the same old 
And the flopping of feet infirm. 
But make ye no truce with the anapest, the metre 
that walks like a worm. 

—J. A. Macy in The Critic. 



by liarold Bolce 

Commerce has ever moved westward ; 
from Asia to Europe; from Greece and 
Rome to Spain, France, and England ; 
from western Europe to colonial America; 
from New England to California; from 
the American Pacific to Asia. The result- 
ant profit in every instance has come to 
the nation or to the race thrusting forward 
the movement. In this last commercial 
span the United States is the power at 
the pushing end, and her commercial suc- 
cess will depend largely upon the aggress- 
iveness, the endurance, and the ambition 
of her tradesmen. 

Nearly two-thirds of the population of 
the earth inhabit the lands washed by the 
Pacific. The growing foreign trade of 
Asia alone is already valued at about two 
billion dollars annually. As commercial 
supremacy is the basis of national great- 


ness in the present age, the country that 
secures control of the inter-ocean traffic 
with two-thirds of the earth's population 
will be greatest among-the world's republics 
and empires. 

In addition to the present Asiatic trade, 
which is advancing with wonderful strides, 
there is at hand a development of China 
which means unlimited wealth and prestige 
to the nation that controls the development. 
China is larger than the whole of the 
United States. It has coal fields greater 
than Pennsylvania's, mines of gold and 
silver, vast unexplored agricultural areas, 
and numberless other resources. Imagine 
the United States with five times its pres- 
ent population, but devoid of any munici- 
pal improvements and with only a couple 
of railroads running, say, from Boston to 
New York ; picture America on the eve 




























The Booklovers Magazine 


of undertaking all of the vast improve- 
ments designed to modernize tlie country 
— and you will grasp some idea of the 
scope of operations planned for China. 

Whether Russia's advance to the sea, 
paralleling our own march to western 
waters, thus meeting America on the 
commercial skirmish line of the Pacific, is 
really a significant strategic movement in 
that conflict of Slav and Saxon which 
statesman have foretold ; or whether the 
aggressions of awakened Japan, with its 
splendid military and commercial genius, 
mark the beginnings of an amalgamated 
Mongolian Asia which shall ultimately 
defy or over-ride all competing powers — 
the truth is plain to many thoughtful 
Americans that one of the strongest 
pillars of our nation, its Pacific commerce, 
is threatened by the impending struggle 
in the East. 

In the opinion of many of the repre- 
sentative men of America, Russia is doing 
precisely what the United States would 
do under the same circumstances. They 
say that if Americans instead of Russians 
had had the geographical opportunity the 
Slav has enjoyed in Europe and Asia, we 
would have built half a dozen trans-Chi- 
nese and trans-Siberian railways to the 
Yellow and Chinese Seas a generation 
ago, and would at least have established 
our commercial sovereignty over the whole 
of Eastern Asia. 

Many alert Americans engaged in inter- 
national trade are confident that the slower 
going but sturdy Russian will eventually 
take possession of China, just as securely 
as we absorbed California, Oregon, 
Washington, and other Pacific Coast 

Just as American dominion now extends 
from the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico 
to the Bering Sea and the Pacific, so Rus- 
sian sovereignty reaches from the White 
and Black Seas and the Gulf of Bothnia 
to the eastern shores of our western 
waters. The Slav moving eastward and 
the Anglo-Saxon westward have secured 
possession of two immense geographical 
empires, whose formidable shore-lines now 

form a significant parallel along opposite 
sides of the same great sea. 

America has not paused at the water's 
edge, nor, is it believed, will Russia. Both 
countries are moving with astonishing 
momentum. Five years ago San Fran- 
cisco, Seattle, Portland, Tacoma, and Los 
Angeles were our frontier cities. Now 
Honolulu and Manila are our national 
terminals. From shut-in Siberia Russia 
has forced a way first to semi-frozen Vladi- 
vostok on the Bay of Peter the Great, and 
to the open and coveted harbors of Dalny 
and Port Arthur on the Yellow Sea. 

Men who forced their way on foot, or 
behind horses and oxen, across the Amer- 
ican plains, live to enjoy a choice of five 
trans-continental railways. A sixth is pro- 
jected, with San Francisco as its terminal. 
A seventh is rapidly building diagonally to 
San Pedro in Southern California. Canada 
has one great line, and is building two 
more, to the Pacific coast. 

Russia has made a start with one trans- 
continental railroad, and the surveyors are 
in the field staking the right of way for a 
second. Her people are pouring along 
the boundaries of China just as Americans 
are moving in a great stream toward the 

The parallel prevails throughout the 
whole development on the two Pacifies. 
Only fifty years ago Japan was uncivilized 
and the western part of America a savage 
wilderness. Today our Pacific is a dynamic 
empire of modern life, multiplying its 
wealth and population by bounds, while 
Japan has become a great world-power. 
Had such a metamorphosis taken place a 
thousand years ago we should scarcely 
credit the record of the historian. The 
entire Orient and Occident bear witness 
to the amazing change. A generation ago 
the trade of Shanghai amounted to seventy- 
eight million taels a year. Within thirty- 
five years it has grown to the marvelous 
annual total of nearly half a billion taels. 
In that same period Seattle, for example, 
has evolved from a saw mill and a store to 
a city of nearly one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand inhabitants, with miles of wharves 


The Booklovers Magazine 

along its harbor on Puj^et Sound, with 
many ocean fleets of merchantmen, and a 
trade with the Orient reaching high into 
increasing millions. 

Within that brief period Japan has held 
six national industrial exhibitions, the last 
at Osaka, the Chicago of that empire, 
assuming the significance of a World's 
Fair. Simultaneously all the common- 
wealths on our Pacific have held similar 
expositions, and now Portland, Oregon, is 
perfecting elaborate plans for a Western 
World's Fair in 1905, designed to present 
to the peoples of all lands an industrial 
and commercial picture of the unparalleled 
awakening of the many countries bordering 
on the Pacific. 

The United States is at the present 
moment confronted by the greatest oppor- 
tunity and greatest problem in its history. 
Some of the most thoughtful students of 
commerce and politics go so far as to say 
that the nation is facing a situation fraught 
with great significance to the welfare of 
mankind. They insist that not only is there 
in the stratagems of empires in the Far 
East a grave menace to our position as the 
commercial master of Pacific commerce, 
but that our standing as a nation is at stake. 
It is obvious that, at least, very significant 
movements of history are now taking 
place — and taking place with great rapidity 
— on the two Pacifies. If the contention 
in Asia is to aflfect the trade of the United 
States, every person in America is directly 
or indirectly concerned in the outcome. 

If Russia grasps her opportunity to seize 
China or a part of it, and thereby becomes 
the first power of the Eastern world, will 
such national expansion check our commer- 
cial destiny and therein strike a blow at the 
influence of the Republic ? SluniKl Japan 
beat back Russia, would a Japanized Asia 
be of lasting benefit to American trade ? 
In the meantime, while empires are strug- 
gling for advantage in the Far East, what 
should the United States do to safeguard 
the great opportunity this nation has been 
enjoying to control the enormous and 
increasing commerce of the Pacific? 
These questions the merchant princes and 

owners of railways and fleets in the United 
States are putting to themselves. It is 
interesting to find that they are by no 
means a unit in their conclusions. 

There is a positive element in the 
American business world that does not 
share the fear that Russian advance in 
China means a check to American trade. 
Russia, they say, is becoming modern. 
True, she has outrages and massacres to 
her debit, but so has America. There are, 
they point out, enlightened leaders in that 
great empire who stand for the best and 
most progressive ideas in modern life. 
That the nation has successfully built a 
railway across Europe and Asia at incred- 
ible expenditure of millions is in itself a 
lasting exhibit of its new life and strength. 
That triumph of statesmanship and engi- 
neering is an augury, the pro-Russian 
advocates in America believe, that the 
people of the Czar are pledged to the 
development of Asia. The more that 
continent is exploited, they set forth, the 
greater will be the demand for American 
goods; and they therefore urge that the 
government at Washington maintain a 
friendly, or at least a neutral, relationship 
with Russia in its imperial movements 
in the Far East. The supporters of this 
idea are practical men, but, curiously, this 
sentiment is strongest on the Pacific coast. 

Wniile many of the commercial leaders 
of the West are not apprehensive of Rus- 
sia's advance in Asia, they do insist that 
the government at Washington should try 
to secure a reciprocity treaty with that 
empire, which should provide for an unre- 
stricted access for all American products 
into China, Manchuria, Korea, and all 
parts of Asia. 

"It is folly," saiil one of the most care- 
ful students of this question, " for America 
to be dragooned into joining in the popular 
shibboleth against the Slav. That is purely 
an English sentiment worked up to enlist 
American sympathies. Russia, in the time 
of our sorest national need, was a firm 
friend. It is to our interests, both as a 
nation and as a commercial people, to 
maintain that frit-mlship. American firms 






have valuable concessions in Siberia. Rus- 
sia is developing her own resources, anil 
stands ready to exploit Asia. She is buy- 
ing agricultural and other machinery from 
this country. Let her go on, and let us 
by commercial treaty secure her co-opera- 
tion. Let her become great in Europe 
and Asia as we are great in America. 
Our interests arc reciprocal." 

Other leading Americans, both in Atlan- 
tic and Pacific coast cities, doing a large 
business with Asia, are just as positive- and 
just as sincere in their convictions that the 
presence of Russia in the Far Last is a 
menace to the best and lasting: interests of 

this Republic. They believe that, unless 
America interferes, one of two things will 
happen : either that out of the struggle 
will issue the nation that is to enjoy sover- 
eignty over the Pacific Ocean ; or that, 
as a result of the world contest, another 
Europe will be entrenched in Asia. In 
either case, they contend, America will 
lose. If one power, like Russia or Japan, 
becomes supreme in the East, then Amer- 
ica takes second place as a Pacific power. 
And inasmuch as the world's greatest trade 
must eventually be carrieil on that sea, the 
nation that controls it will be paramount 
among the pow ers. 

The Booklovers Magazine 


New York to San Francisco ,33^^oM. 

Via Cape Horn ^^^^^H^^i^^HHIHIHI^ 

Pan am a 

5.278 M. 

NewYork to Manila 

Via Cape oF Good Hope ■■^■■■■1 

- Suez 
• Panama 

"/S.SSS M. 

NewYork to Yokohama 
Via Cape of Good Hope ^HlHUHBHl^H 

" 5uez wtm^m^Mm^^M 

/5. /7a M. 

/3.095 M. 


3692 M. 

NewYork to Sydney 

Via Cape oP Good Hope ■■■■■■^^ 



9.S60 M. 

Via Cape Horn 

San Francisco to Liverpool 

/3.eva M. 

7.9 07M . 


The entire sentiment of the American- 
Asiatic Association, whose membership 
includes many eminent men directing a 
large commerce with Asia, indicates a 
deep and growing apprehension for the 
future of the United States on the Pacific. 

"Obviously," the Association announces, 
"the United States has everything to lose 
and nothing to gain by finding another 
Europe installed on the opposite shore of 
the Pacific. Commercially speaking, that 
would mean the erection against its trade of 
hostile tarififs ; while politically speaking, it 
would mean the relegation of this Republic 
to the rank of a second-rate Pacific power. 

What menace to its future safety there 
might be in the Slavic dominion of Asia, 
which would almost certainly attend the 
absorption of North China by Russia, can 
only be dimly conjectured ; but the imme- 
diate consequences of permitting the fru- 
ition of what are the avowed designs of the 
Russian policy, which is being prosecuted 
in full view of the entire world, are serious 
enough to demand the gravest considera- 
tion. We should," the Association further 
insists, " be playing a somewhat ridiculous 
part by devoting all our strength and 
resources to the opening of an ocean gate- 
way to Asia, and refusing to lift a hand to 

from the East 


The Booklovers Magazine 


prevent the land portals from being closed 
against us. It should not require much 
argument to make it plain even to the 
man in the street that it would hardly be 
worthy of the United States to present to 
the world the contrast between a policy 
vigorous and direct beyond all precedent, 
in dealing with a weak power on the 
Isthmus; but full of doubt, hesitancy, and 
overstrained regard for the diplomatic pro- 
prieties, in face of the more ofifensive, 
dangerous, and arrogant pretensions of a 
strong power in Asia." 

Recently the Manufacturers and Produc- 
ers Association of California sent a special 
commissioner to Asia to investigate trade 
conditions. His report has been received, 
and under the caption, " Note of Warning 
to the Commercial Organizations, Manu- 
facturers, and Merchants of the United 
States," is being circulated throughout the 
shipping and manufacturing centres of 

This California organization is much 
concerned over the Russian real estate 
and building boom in Manchuria, for they 
foresee the permanent occupation of that 
Chinese province by Russian people, and 

the probable shutting out of American 
commercial interests. Their representa- 
tive reports that in no place, even in the 
rapidly developing West, has he ever wit- 
nessed anything like the building excite- 
ment going on in Manchuria. Many of 
the houses are of brick. Everywhere 
there is indication that Russia has come 
to stay. Her eastern movement to the 
Pacific is, as stated at the outset of this 
paper, precisely like our western migration. 

No area in all Russia is so rich in natural 
resources as Manchuria. The California 
shippers compare it with the wheat and 
corn prairies of Iowa, Kansas, and the 
Dakotas. Farming on a large scale is 
already under way. Chinamen in the 
employ of Russians are found driving 
American gang plows and harrows behind 
six and eight mules and ponies. Cattle are 
fat. The country is abounding in pros- 
perity. Travelers on the Russian railway 
in Manchuria ride miles along fields of 
thrifty corn over six feet high. 

That developing province, with its vast 
but not crowded population, is a coveted 
market for the United States. There were 
thirteen million dollars' worth of imports 












The Booklovers Magazine 


into Manchuria in 1901, forty per cent, of 
which went from the United States. In 
1902 our share, while still the greatest of 
any one nation, fell to thirty-five per cent. 
California shippers see in this the first indi- 
cation of our ultimate total exclusion from 
this field now being rapidly Russianized. 
Under complete Russian control, it is 
believed by the San Francisco organization 
that a prohibitive tarifif would be erected 
against our goods. Up to 1901, they 
point out, the American kerosene trade in 
Manchuria grew steadily until it reached 
in that year over three million gallons. In 
1902, after the Russian advance, the sales 
fell to little more than half a million. 

The California exporters report that, 
because of Russian opposition, an Ameri- 
can firm was unable to secure at Dalny a 
site upon which to build warehouses for 
the storing of American oil. The imports 
of flour into Manchuria, these Pacific coast 
merchants set forth, fell from $128,000 in 
1901 to ^91,000 in 1902. 

"Russian agents," said the American 
Consul at Niu-chwang, "are building 
flour mills, factories, and meat-packing 
establishments, and are opening mines 
and selling goods throughout Manchuria 
— privileges which Americans are not 
permitted to enjoy." 

Based upon these and other facts, the 
California commercial organization ap- 
peals to the Secretary of State at Wash- 
ington to safeguard their Asiatic markets. 
What can be secured now by trade treaties 
cannot, they insist, be obtained a few years 
hence without recourse to great wars. 

"If any one," said a successful Ameri- 
can, who operates in a large way, manag- 
ing thousands of miles of railway and fleets 
of vessels, "imagines that the United 
States can progress greatly if cut out of the 
far Eastern market, let him consider a single 
item — that of wheat. Study the map and 
resources of Manitoba, and you will find 
that the British Northwest can produce all 
the wheat that England can consume. 
This Canadian wheat area will shortly be 
under cultivation. Following that, let 
England, developing Mr. Chamberlain's 

policy, erect a tarif? barrier against our 
wheat, and our only outlet would be Asia. 
If, in the meantime, Russia had asserted 
her sway, and chose to shut out our 
cereals, a large and now immensely pros- 
perous part of the United States would be 
confronted with bankruptcy. It is a sim- 
ple problem, and the Americans who look 
ahead can readily see it." 

There are many shrewd observers on the 
Pacific coast who, while not sharing the 
anti-Russian alarm set forth, believe they 
see in the Far East conflict a still greater 
menace to America's standing as a Pacific 
power. They believe that a Japanese vic- 
tory over Russia would be an international 
calamity. Japan's ambition, they point 
out, is to merge and mobilize the millions 
of China into "a military entity whose 
power, once aroused, would dwarf into 
insignificance any horde of conquerors the 
world has ever seen." 

"With Japanese statesmen erecting a 
framework of efficient government upon 
the ruins of the present Manchu dynasty," 
said one of the spokesmen of the pro-Rus- 
sian party on the Pacific Coast, "with 
'Asia for the Asiatics' brought out to 
serve as the slogan for China's hitherto 
inert hosts, at length directed by acumen, 
energy, and newly-aroused ambition, the 
plans of Europe for a partition of that 
ancient empire would fall away like a 
house of cards before a breath." 

The United States Department of Agri- 
culture makes the statement that the 
cultivated area of Japan comprises a dis- 
trict equal to only about one-third the 
size of the State of Illinois. In fact, only 
fifteen per cent, of the area of Japan is 
adapted to the cultivation of their annual 
crops. Yet they conduct their farming 
with such industry and scientific skill that 
this insignificant area supports an empire 
of 44,805,937 people, increasing at the 
rate of over half a million per annum. 

"Imagine," said a recent traveler in the 
Far East, "more than half of the popula- 
tion of the United States cooped up within 
the confines of the State of Montana, and 
picture this dense mass of millions subsisting 








The Booklovers Magazine 


on the yield of a section of land no 
larger tlian one-third the area of Illinois, 
and you can form some conception of the 
territorial problem confronting the king- 
dom of Japan." Of all the modern nations 
she is in the most need of domain for 
purposes of colonization. Her inevitable 
outlet is on the mainland of Asia. For- 
mosa is a beginning, and Korea is at hand; 
but every step in her expansion invites a 
conflict with the powers of Europe. Inter- 
national ambitions confront her at every 
turn, and her work as a world-power has 
just begun. If she develops the strength 
to maintain her intrepid national program, 
it is not improbable that she will become 
within the near future the most con- 
spicuous power of the Pacific, not even 
excepting the United States. 

These Pacific Coast leaders who advo- 
cate maintaining cordial relations with 
Russia insist that Japan would seize China 
just as England has India ; that Russia, 
whatever her faults, is so bound by com- 
mercial ties in Europe that she would 
never be permitted to extend the imperial 
sway over Asia which Japan, in the event 
of conquest in the present struggle, would 
be in a position to secure; and, finally, 
that in a conflict upon one side of which 
is arranged Caucasian and Christian Europe 
and the other Mongolian Asia, the sym- 
pathies of America should be with the 
races west of the Tartar lines. 

These several opinions are not the 
speculations of publicists having nothing 
at stake save the reputation their theories 
give. They are the grave expressions of 
men who, in the event of America's exclu- 
sion from Asia, would suffer the loss of 
many millions. In spite of their irrecon- 
cilable convictions, they are a unit upon the 
main issue — that the present is a critical 
moment in the career of the Republic. 

The almost limitless trade possibilities 
hanging in the balance while we await the 
outcome of the struggle in the Far East 
are clearly seen if we look at the com- 
mercial position of China. The total 
foreign trade of China for the year 1902 
was only $333,083,000, which is consid- 


erably less than one dollar per capita of its 
population. Chinese commerce may not 
advance as rapidly as has the foreign trade 
of Japan, but it is not over-sanguine, in 
view of the industrial development under 
way in China, to believe that within a 
quarter of a century the purchases of the 
people of that empire will average annually 
five dollars apiece. This would swell the 
yearly import trade of China to the value 
of two billion dollars. It is obvious that 
the nation that gets anything like a pre- 
ponderance of that incredible volume of 
business will be the commercial master of 
the world. 

"There are," said President Hill, 
doubtless not less than half a billion 
Chinamen. With a good stable govern- 
ment, which will protect the Chinaman in 
the fruits of his own labor and enterprise, 
there is no reason why the Chinese trade 
should not increase as rapidly as that of 
Japan. The Chinaman is the better mer- 
chant of the two. We should remember 
that the Oriental trade has built up cities 
of the Old World which are now in ruins. 
Its value runs back to the dawn of his- 
tory. Byzantium enjoyed this trade for a 
time; and later on it built up Venice, the 
city of merchant palaces, which for years 
was the gateway from the East into 
Europe. When the Portuguese sent their 















The Booklovers Magazine 


ships around the Cape of Good Hope, fol- 
lowed by the Spaniards, they took possess- 
ion of this trade and transferred it from the 
backs of camels to their galleons. From 
them it passed under the control of the 
Hanseatic League and the cities of Hol- 
land and Belgium. Early in this century 
Great Britain, through a wise and farsee- 
ing policy inaugurated by her ablest states- 
men, took possession of the Oriental trade 

dollars per capita per annum it would 
amount to more than the value of the 
present total exports of the Republic." 

This is not the essay of a dreamer, but 
the sober statement and outlook of a man 
engaged in operating American railways and 
fleets. When it is realized that the people 
of Japan, who are a part of the same great 
Mongolian race, now buy goods at the rate 
of seven dollars per capita, it is not difficult 


and has retained it to the present time, for 
the reason that she furnished the lowest 
rates of transportation to and from those 

"We are now," he added, "preparing 
to challenge her for such share of the busi- 
ness as can be furnished by the manufac- 
tures of the United States. Should the 
Chinese trade increase to three or four 

to picture China's population — dwelling in 
a land of infinitely vaster natural wealth — 
making purchases averaging at least two 
dollars per capita, when their country shall 
have responded to the magical touch of 
modern development. 

All this anticipation of the commercial 
awakening of China, however, is of small 
import to the people of the United States if 

The Booklovers Magazine 


that developing trade is not to be secured 
to America. There is some individual 
effort on the part of a few progressive 
firms in this country to hold this vast 
opportunity for America, but no systematic 
trade program has been devised looking to 
the exploitation of China; and the few 
commercial pioneers vigilantly at work in 
the field feel no assurance of the country's 

Turning from speculation regarding 
future possibilities to a consideration of the 
remarkable results already achieved in the 
unprecedented development on both sides of 

tion to lay strong hands upon the first 
opportunity that presents itself, whether it 
be rolling logs in a lumber camp, driving 
spikes on a railroad, clerking, keeping 
books, trading, or working along profes- 
sional lines. The day of booms, as popu- 
larly understood, has passed; yet there has 
not been in the most tumultuous excite- 
ments attending Western expansion any- 
thing comparable to the growth of the 
year just passed. 

During 1903 thirty thousand home- 
seekers were established on free farms in 
the vast wheat regions of Manitoba. 


the Pacific Ocean, it is worthy of note that 
hundreds of thousands of Americans, Japa- 
nese, and Chinese, have grown and are 
growing rich. The opportunities for the 
right kind of young men with grit and 
abounding energy are innumerable. Should 
two million young men, with the right 
sort of material in their make-up, reach the 
Pacific coast in one day, it is the opinion of 
conservative Western employers that they 
could all gain a foothold and eventually 
become men of property and affairs. An 
essential preliminary is a stern dctcrmina- 

Three years ago in one of the counties of 
the State of Washington there were but 
ninety-five voters. Now there are twenty- 
six thousand inhabitants in that county, 
and out of it was shipped in 1903 three 
million dollars' worth of wheat. 

A few years ago a ship bearing gold from 
the Klondike started a stampede toward 
the Arctic Circle. Last year, although 
there was no apparent furore about it, the 
value of gold and fish from Alaska exceeded 
twenty million dollars. All such move- 
ments arc making Western operators rich. 











f ^ 




I't ■.' 

I' I 







The Booklovers Magazine 


There are thousands of young men on 
the Pacific coast still under thirty, many 
of whom borrowed their fare West or 
landed without the slightest capital, who 
are now living in beautiful homes, and are 
actively engaged in enterprises valued all 
the way from twenty thousand to five 
hundred thousand dollars. The stories of 
some of these successes will be enumerated 
in subsequent papers, as an inspiration to 
the youth of America. 

The intense activity of the West finds 
expression, among other ways, in the rival 
upbuilding of States and cities. Seattle 
marshals statistics and geographical advan- 
tages to prove its superiority over San 
Francisco as a gateway to Asia. The 
amazing increase in the tonnage and popu- 
lation of the Puget Sound metropolis give 
substance to its claim, and the traveler 
would be inclined, in the presence of that 
bustling progress, to fear that the famous 
city of California was standing idle. How- 
ever, he finds that seaport another pulsat- 
ing centre of Pacific and trans-Pacific 
commerce, and sees that it is sharing in 
the same great movement that is making 
all the country beyond the Mississippi a 
flourishing Western empire. In 1903 sixty 
thousand people were added to the popu- 
lation of San Francisco. 

A similar condition prevails throughout 
the entire West. If you ask a Seattle 
man about Tacoma he will not glorify the 
rival town, for Seattle has distanced her in 
the race for supremacy. Yet during 1903 
the value of buildings erected in Tacoma 
exceeded that of any year in its history, 
including even the periods of its real estate 
excitements. Spokane, while circulating 
no hysterical literature, has become one of 
the wealthiest cities of its size in America. 
Its population is approaching the fifty-thou- 
sand mark. Regarding Portland, Oregon, 
it is asserted that it has more millionaires 
to the square foot than any other city in 
the United States. 

The truth is that the citizen in any of 
the rushing Western cities is so occupied 
in seizing the manifold opportunities in his 
immediate bustling environment that he 

lacks the perspective to see that his pros- 
perity and the progress of his city are a 
part of a wholesale commercial evolution. 
Neither is this magnificent development 
confined to the Pacific Slope. 

In the middle West, for example, ninety 
new towns have just been built along the 
lines of the Northwestern Railway. South 
Dakota produced over one hundred million 
dollars' worth of grain and live stock in 
1903, and dug twelve million dollars from 
the Black Hills. No State in the Union 
equals it in the per capita wealth of its 
people. Every place, in fact, touched by 
the vast tide of energetic men moving 
westward from the Mississippi Valley is 
surging with new life. 

"To the land of no poverty" is the 
motto of the great migration. In many 
parts of the West prolific of wheat and 
hay, the money necessary for the move- 
ment of great crops was found this season 
on deposit in local banks. The bank 
clearings in Seattle alone in 1903 reached 

Concurrent with the financial prosperity 
and industrial development of the entire 
West, there has taken place an economic 
awakening in Eastern Asia. Between the 
two Pacifies sixteen lines of steamships, 
some of them operating extensive fleets, 
already ply. New lines are being estab- 
lished, and the old lines are steadily sup- 
planting smaller vessels with first-class 
steamships of greater tonnage. In the 
service of President Hill two vessels said to 
be the largest ever built will run between 
Japan and Puget Sound. The increase of 
Seattle's shipment of flour to the Orient 
in the four months from July to October, 
1903, was one hundred and thirty-five per 
cent, over the amount of that commodity 
exported during the same months of the 
preceding year. The number of barrels of 
flour shipped to the Orient from San 
Francisco, Tacoma, Portland, and Seattle 
during the four months mentioned in 1903 
was 1,201,841, an increase of seventy-six 
per cent, over the year before. 

A half century ago, when Japan was a 
cipher, when the ambitions of Russia to 

The Booklovers Magazine 


reach Chinese waters were unknown, 
when China itself was sunk in sleep, when 
our own Pacific coast was without a city 
and had as a population only a fugvtive 
handful of gold hunters, and when the 
islands of the western sea could be had by 
any nation for the taking, William H. 
Seward wrote : 

" Henceforth European commerce, 
European politics, European thought, and 
European activity, although actually gain- 
ing force, and European connections, 
although actually becoming more inti- 
mate, will nevertheless relatively sink in 
importance; while the Pacific Ocean, its 
shores, its islands, and the vast region 
beyond, will become the chief theatre of 
events in the world's great hereafter." 

The awakening and development ot 
Pacific empires and the commerce of that 
sea within fifty years have given auspicious 
demonstration that this prophecy, uttered 
as a flash of inspiration, is to be fulfilled. 
It is obvious that prosperity in the form 
of a great commercial equation reaches 
across the Pacific Ocean. In Asia, the 
nation now moves in darkness which is to 
solve that part of the problem and enjoy 
the incalculable dividends in the form of 

wealth and national strength ; in America 
the factors are under our control. When 
the people of this Republic realize that 
Japan or Russia or a new Europe in Asia 
is wresting from us the unlimited markets 
of the Far East, there will take place a 
great national awakening. Then will 
come the great American invasion, com- 
pared with which our commercial inroads 
into Europe and our march across our own 
continent will be insignificant. 

At the present moment the war cloud 
in the East has completely obscured the 
commercial situation. One thing only is 
plain — that the future commercial expan- 
sion of the United States depends upon 
free access to Asiatic markets, and that 
therefore this country cannot afford to 
acquiesce in any settlement of the present 
war which would close Asia to our trade. 
The statesmen at Washington who develop 
the grasp and decision to safeguard the 
most alluring outlook American commerce 
has enjoyed, will build enduringly for the 

CouTitiy oj tht Philadelphia ■.-.■n 





ATemArk^^ lorce 
irTErxglisK Politics 


Lord Rosebery has described Francis 
Carruthers Gould as " one of the most 
remarkable assets of the Liberal party." 
That was true some years ago. It is not 
quite so true now, for " F. C. G.," to use 
the initials by which he is affectionately 
known, is today more than an asset of the 
Liberal party. He is an asset of all parties. 
His incomparable caricatures in the West- 
minster Gazette, in Picture Politics, in The 
Strand Magazine, and in The Modern 
Chronicles of Froissart, are as popular 
among Tories, Liberal Unionists, Irish 
Nationalists, and Protectionists as they 
are among Liberals and Free Traders. 
Never in the history of caricature has there 
appeared a caricaturist who has so com- 
pletely conquered the hearts of men of all 
classes and all opinions. Even John Leech, 
most beloved of humorists, never won 
affection so universal as that which Mr. 
Gould enjoys. He is the king of living 
caricaturists. As Macaulay said of Bos- 
well, it is Eclipse first and the rest 
nowhere. There was a time when that 
brilliant draftsman, Mr. Harry Furniss, 
seemed likely to wear the crown of Leech, 
but his early promise has not been fulfilled. 
Why? Because he failed to realize, what 
Mr. Gould has realized, that English taste 

demands good -humor 
as well as humor in 
our caricatures. 
Before I discuss the work of Mr. Gould 
let me briefly outline his romantic career. 
He was born in 1844, at Barnstaple in 
Devonshire. His father was a clever 
architect, and from his earliest years he 
lived amid paper and pencils and machinery 
of drawing. It is clear that he is a born 
caricaturist, for at ten he drew a political 
cartoon. At sixteen he was put into a 
bank. There he caricatured the custom- 
ers ; and Mr. Watson — to whose delight- 
ful sketch of Mr. Gould I am indebted for 
many interesting facts — suggests that he 
covered the Barnstaple bank-books with 
humors like those on that page of the 
Latin grammar which Thackeray repro- 
duced in The Roundabout Papers. The 
Mayor" and "The Gaoler" belong to 
this period, and it is remarkable that they 
should be alive with the Gould idiosyncracy 

OLD PILOT: i wonder if i could have saved her? 

The Booklovers Magazine 


which is now so familiar to every English- 
man. The gaoler was furious, for the 
young humorist turned him into animals of 
all kinds. He complained to the mayor. 
"Oh," said the mayor, " he is only a 
youngster. You mustn't take any notice 
of it." "But that hain't the worst," 
cried the gaoler; " he's been a-caricaturin' 
of you!" 

After four years among bank-books the 
lad went to London, and there in a stock- 

for personal caricature, and an excellent 
school," he says, "for there was every 
variety of personality and very marked 
individuality among the members. In 
addition, I had the advantage of very keen 
and very outspoken criticism. As time 
went on, my drawings became very numer- 
ous, and at last I did a series of sketches 
and cartoons which were published for pri- 
vate circulation, and people tell me they 
may still be seen in many offices in the 



[All my lifetime I Iiave found that many things have a curious habit of coming out very much 

as I expected.— Mr. Chamberlain, at Grahamstoiun, February ii, IQOJ.] 

broker's office he continued to caricature 
everybody he saw. His exuberant genius 
continued to disport itself in this fashion 
for twenty years, and after he became a 
member of the Stock Exchange he reveled 
in that great menagerie, whose bulls and 
bears represent almost every variety of 
those human humors produced by the 
greatest of all caricaturists. Nature. "I 
found 'the house' a very fruitful ground 

neighborhood of Threadneedle Street and 
Throgmorton Street." 

Up to this time he had drawn " all for 
fun," like Frank Lockwood ; but his 

self-pleasing quaintness" was discovered 
by Mr, Horace Voules, of Truth, who 
persuaded him in 1879 to illustrate the 
Christmas number of Mr. Labouchere's 
audacious organ. In these cartoons he 
turned the most august persons into beasts 


The Booklovers Magazine 


John Bull to Porter: Where are you taking him ? 

Porter I ain't taking him anywhere. 

John Bull: Weil, then, where' s he taking you ? 

Porter {indignantly) : He ain't taking me. 

John Bull: Then, where is he going? 

Porter: I don't know. He's eaten all his direction labels. 

and birds. In the cartoon of 1890 the late 
Stacy Marks, R.A., appeared in a kind of 
pictorial version of the comedy of Aristo- 
phanes, The Birds. There Lord Salisbury 
figures as a dodo, and the Lord Chancellor 
as a penguin. In the aviary may be seen 
the Duke of Cambridge, Sir H. M. Stan- 
ley, Sir Henry Irving, George Augustus 
Sala, Sir William Harcourt, Lord Charles 
Beresford, the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, 
the Marquis of Duffcrin, Colonel 
North, the Duke of Devonshire, 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
and many another two-legged 
bird with feathers. 

It was, however, Mr. Stead, 
the Christopher Columbus of 
British journalism, who practically 
discovered and explored thegenuis 
of Mr. Gould. Mr. Stead was 
then " making things hum " on 
the Pall Mall Gazette, and in 
1887 he found what Sir Francis 
Burnand would call a Gould 

mine. In those days, says Mr. 
Stead, Mr. Gould used to come 
for instructionsonce a week. "He 
was a jewel of an artist," for he 
was 'always ready to abandon his 
own notions and adopt those of 
his editorial chief." This, indeed, 
is the key to Mr. Gould's success. 
In his cartoons the political idea 
is predominant, whereas other 
cartoonists are absorbed in the 
picture and allow the political idea 
to take care of itself. A good 
story is told of somebody who 
objected to the employment of 
Mr. Gould on the Pall Mall 
because he had a "lack of political 
ideas" ! But no one could suffer 
from political anemia who works 
under Mr. Stead, whose populous 
brain is a germ-factory of political 
ideas. It has been IVIr. Gould's 
good fortune to be associated with 
three of the greatest editor- 
politicians in England — first with 
Mr. Stead, secondly with Mr. E.T. 
Cook, and thirdly with Mr. J. A. 
Spender. Mr. Cook succeeded Mr. Stead 
as editor of the Pall Mall. When Mr. 
Astor bought the Pall Mall, he turned its 
coat. It ceased to be Liberal, and became 
a Tory organ. The editorial staff, with 
Mr. Cook at their head, resigned in a 
body, and among the seceders were Mr. 
Spender and Mr. Gould. It was a fine 
display of journalistic conscience and 
courage, and it excited the admiration of 


The Booklovers Magazine 

315 - 

many persons who are apt to regard jour- 
nalists as mere time-servers. Such examples 
of high principle and fearless independence 
are not rare in English journalism. 

Mr. Cook, Mr. Spender, and Mr. Gould 
found in Sir George Newnes a new pro- 
prietor who enabled them to start the 
Westminster Gazette. When afterwards 
Mr. Cook became editor of the "Daily 
News he was called on again to sacrifice 
his position to his principles, and resigned 
when a change in the proprietorship turned 
the Daily News into a pro-Boer organ. 
At the same time there was a similar 
revolution in the office of the Daily 
Chronicle. Under Mr. H. W . Massing- 
ham it had fought strenuously for the 
Boer cause. Mr. Massingham, like Mr. 
Cook, did not hesitate to sacrifice his 
position to his principles when the policy 
of the paper was reversed. Then came a 
chasse-croise. Mr. Cook walked down 
Fleet Street to the office of the Daily 
Chronicle, and Mr. Massingham walked 
up Fleet Street to the office of the Daily 
News; but neither of the twain walked 
into the editorial chair. The latest martyr 
of journalistic independence is Mr. Mony- 
penny, the editor of the Johannesburg Star, 
who resigned the other day rather than 
acquiesce in the policy of his proprietors, 
who, being Rand mine owners, desire to 
import Chinese labor for the mines. 

Mr. Gould, therefore, is a man of 
character as well as caricature. He has 
ideals as well as ideas, and his political 
passion has matured amid the best tradi- 
tions of English journalism. Therein lies 
the secret of his unparalleled influence in 
politics, an influence hardly inferior to 
that of any publicist or any politician. 
The IVestminster undoubtedly owes its 
splendid position as much to Mr. Gould's 
caricatures as to Mr. Spender's consum- 
mate editorial acumen and sagacity. But 
it is hard to say where Mr. Spender ends 
and Mr. Gould begins. Their collabora- 
tion is unique in journalism, and it is 
hardly too much to say that Mr. Gould's 
pencil is geared upon Mr. Spender's brain. 
Mr. Gould himself has generously acknow- 


ledged the debt he owes to his editor. 

The daily paper cartoonist," he says, 
" has this advantage, that in the editor's 
room he collaborates with one whose 
knowledge of political matters is wide and 
deep, and whose mind is trained to unravel 
the most tangled threads of a situation 
and to reduce what seems obscure to 
clear, concise demonstration. In my own 
case I cannot possibly exaggerate the 
value of a collaboration to which I owe a 
great portion of my success." 

Political insight is the master quality of 
his cartoons. They go right to the very 
heart of things. Their lucidity is amazing. 
Often a Gould cartoon will illuminate the 
whole battlefield of politics in a vivid flash 
of clairvoyance. Mr. Gould has also the 
gift of concentration. He never fires at 

Mr. Balfour: Fancy, Ridley I they've actually 
got horses ! 

Sir M. W. Ridley: And look, Arthur, they've 
got rifles, too 1 What a shame to deceive us I 


Thh Booklovers Magazine 


Mrs. Britannia Bull: Good gracious, John, what on earth have you been doing with yourself? 
John Bull : All right, my dear; I've only been muddling through a little mess. What does it matter 

as long as 1 come home right side up ? 
Mrs. B. B. : It matters a good deal, sir. I've got to do the mending 1 

random. He knows that an ounce bullet 
is more deadly than a pound of shot. His 
cartoons are generally very simple. He is 
a master of what I may call pictorial parsi- 
mony. He is not only up-to-date in his 
pictorial epigrams ; he is often before-the- 
date. His swift swoop upon a political 
point is like the swoop of a hawk upon 
its quarry. The political folly of Monday 
is the cartoon of Tuesday. This sureness 
of eye and rapidity of thrust could hardly 
be attained and maintained without the 
alert and tireless aid of Mr. Spender. 
How are your cartoons done?" he was 
asked. "The subject," he replied, "is 
first selecteil in consultation with the 
editor, when we are discussing the attitude 
of the paper on the chief subject of the 
day. Sometimes a line in a statesman's 
speech, which lends itself to illustration, 
will be selected. When, however, there 
is no pictorial suggestion supplied in this 
way, we sit down and work out the poli- 

tical situation from the point of view we 
desire to express." Is it strange that 
nearly every shot fired by these gunners 
hits the target ? Is it strange that tlie 
Gould cartoons mold a policy and shake 
a government ? 

Great as has been Mr. Gould's politi- 
cal influence for many years, it is never- 
theless steadily growing, and his cartoons 
are published in Liberal newspapers all 
over the country. The Jf^estminstcr is, of 
course, a penny evening paper, and many 
of the provincial journals regularly publish 
this evening's cartoon to-morrow morning. 
" F. C. G.," indeed, will soon be reported 
like a front-bench orator. His cartoons 
are also republished in book form and in 
editions de luxe. They are also used as 
political posters, leaflets, and picture-post- 
cards. The Tory party would give much 
for a Tory Gould, but he " reigns pre- 
dominant without a peer " ; and in the 
great fiscal campaign now raging his car- 

The Booklovers Magazine 


toons are doing more to damage Mr. 
Chamberlain than is being done by any 
Free Trade orator. Take, for instance, 
his use of the story of the old negresswho, 
seeing a lady blowing up an air-cushion 
and sitting on it, cried : " Missus is 
sottin' on 'er own bref." He represented 
Mr. Chamberlain blowing into and sitting 
on a bladder labeled " Fiscal Fallacies." 
A more masterly pictorial epigram even 
Mr. Gould has never achieved. 

Another element of Mr. Gould's genius 
is his power of characterization. His cari- 
catures are portraits. He draws from life, 
not from photographs. Even Tenniel had 
not a tenth of his power of seizing the 
central idiosyncrasies of a face. There are 
many brilliant black-and-white draftsmen 
who utterly fail in this respect. Mr. Lin- 
ley Sambourne, for instance, can never 
capture more than a dim shadow of a like- 
ness. Mr. Beerbohm often caricatures his 


An old negro " mammy," having seen her mis- 
tress inflate an air-cushion and then sit on it, 
rushed out in great excitement declaring, " Missus 
is sottin' on 'er own bref." 


r must plough my furrow alone. That is my fate, agreeable or the reverse, but before I get to the end 
of the furrow it is possible that 1 may find myself not alone.— Lord Rosebery, at the City Liberal 
Club, July JQ, igoi. 

Mr. Gibson Bowles in the House of Commons quoted, apropos of Lord Rosebery's 
position, from Cowper's lines on Alexander Selkirk : 

I am out of humanity's reach, 
I must finish my journey alone; 

Never hear the sweet music of speech- 
1 start at the sound of my own. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

victims out of recognition. Mr. Gould 
accentuates the likeness, but he does not 
destroy it. He studies his prey in the 
lobby and in the press gallery of the 
House of Commons. He tells how on 
one occasion he was stalking a great poli- 
tician in the lobby, and found that Harry 
Furniss and Leslie Ward were also mark- 
ing down the same victim. The statesman 
was blissfully unconscious of the fact that 
three caricaturists were walking round him 
and plucking the heart out of his mystery. 
Mr. Gould finds Mr. Chamberlain the 
easiest, and Lord Rosebery the most diffi- 
cult, subject; yet his Rosebery caricatures 
are triumphs of pictorial characterization. 
His caricatures are never stale. Some 
artists discover a convention and go on 
repeating it for ever. Mr. Gould is always 
watching the masque of faces, and in his 
caricatures he presents men in every light 
and shade of passion and emotion. His 
Chamberlain is as mutable as the opinions 
of the original. His Balfour is no longer 

the Balfour of the Coercion days. The 
slim, lackadaisical flaneur is now a stout, 
phlegmatic, bewildered bourgeois, whose 
lack of "settled convictions" is reflected in 
a face full of feeble resolutions and absent- 
minded expostulations. The characteriza- 
tions of Mr. Gould are alive with humor. 
He fastens on the absurd side of a man's 
temperament and brings it out with tre- 
mendous lucidity. He never credits a 
weak man with strength, a vulgar man 
with refinement, a fatuous man with dig- 
nity. He uses the good qualities of a man 
as a foil for his defects. It was this cruel 
magnanimity which made Dryden the most 
terrible of satirists. You can damage a 
man more by treating him as a man than 
by treating him as a monster; for, if you 
admit his good qualities, he has no answer 
to your censure of his bad ones. Mr. 
Gould's Brodrick is a good example of 
this. His Brodrick is always earnest, hag- 
gardly earnest; and the haggard earnest- 
ness of the man enormously heightens the 

_ .^-^^ 


The Booklovers Magazine 




Arthur B. : I say, Joe, here's the cat that's always making such a horrid noise. 

Joe : Let's cut a bit off his tail ! 

The Cat : You may cut my tail, but you can't cut my claws. 

[The national movement in the country would be just as embarrassing to the Government if the 
representation was reduced. — Mr. John Redmond, at IVeitport, September i, igoi .'\ 

comedy of his ineptitudes as War Min- 
ister, for there is nothing so comic as 
incompetent anxiety. His Lord Lans- 
downe is another type of incapacity — the 
good-natured failure, the cheerful bungler. 
Mr. Gould is fond of turning politicians 
into beasts and birds. This, indeed, is a 
device which opens the door to every 
variety of humor, for the resemblance 
between man and the lower animals is the 
most humorous thing in this humorous 
world. Mr. Watts-Dunton, in his fascia 
nating romance, Aylivin, tells how he and 
Rossetti paid a visit to Jamrach's. Jam- 
rach is the great importer of animals, and 
his shop in Ratcliffe Highway has long 
been famous all over the world. One 
source of the interest Rossetti took in 
animals was his belief in Battista Porta's 

whimsical theory that every human crea- 
ture resembles one of the lower animals, 
and he found a perennial amusement in 
seeing in the faces of animals caricatures 
of his friends. He went from cage to 
cage, giving to each animal the name of 
some member of the Royal Academy, or 
of one of his own intimate friends. There 
was nothing of malice in this whim of 
Rossetti: it was a pure exercise of humor. 
There is no malice in Mr. Gould's human 
beasts and birds. Their humor is based 
on a gentle incongruity, for he respects 
all animals — even man. As civilization 
advances, the lower animals lose the des- 
picable associations with which primitive 
man invested them. "Is thy servant a 
dog?" is a question which has lost its 
sting. Even the ass is ceasing to be a 


The Booklovers Magazine 

turn him into a 

humorist will 

Mr. Gould has found in birds 
and beasts types for every politician. 
He haunts the Zoo, and never 
goes there without getting ideas. 
That masterpiece of American 
humor, Uncle ^fwz/j, has provided 
him with some of his drollest 
fables, for Mr. Gould is a brilliant 
fabulist. Mr. Chamberlain as 
Brer Fox and Mr. Kruger as 
Brer Rabbit are perhaps his hap- 
piest conceptions. He has also 
made great use of Alice in IVon- 
derland, which is an inexhaustible 
mine of political allegory. He 
"Wat sorter seasonin' d'ye sagashuate I'se gwinter cook delights in Froissart, and he has 

you with?" sez Brer Fox, sezee. 

Brer Rabbit up en say he don' wanter be cooked 't all. 

Brer Fox he grit his toof. " You'er gittin' 'way from de 
point, Brer Rabbit," sez Brer Fox, sezee. 

symbol of human stupidity, and the mod- 
ern philosopher can contemplate the pig 
with reverence and the monkey with inter- 
est. For the most ludicrous animal is not 
so ludicrous as the least ludicrous man. 
Anacharsis, the Scythian philosopher, 
when jesters were taken to him, could not 
be made to smile; but when a monkey 
was brought to him, he broke out into a 
fit of laughter, and said, " Now, this is 
laughable by nature, the other by art." 
Anacharsis laughed at the monkey because 
it was at once like and unlike a man. We 
laugh at man because he is at once like 
and unlike a monkey, and our laughter is 
sobered by the knowledge that the mon- 
key is our cousin. Mr. Gould has never 
ventured to caricature a man as a monkey. 
Why? Because the monkey is too near 
to man, and we have not yet learned to 
reverence the monkey as we reverence the 
dog, the horse, the cat, the lion, and the 
elephant. The monkey humiliates us, 
because we are reluctant to recognize that 
he, like ourselves, is a citizen in the great 
republic of life. In a thousand years the 
monkey will be a symbol of fantasy, and 
the caricaturist of 2904 who wishes to pay 
a delicate compliment to a contemporary 

chronicled the principal events of 
1 90 1 and 1902 in The Modern 
Chronicles of Froissart , two volumes 
which contain some of his finest 
work. The archaisms of Froissart are 
happily mimicked in these chronicles, both 
verbally and pictorially; for Mr. Gould 
has a literary gift which enables him to 
write round his caricatures. Here is a pas- 
sage from his Froissart, dealing with the 
Pierpont Morgan panic and the Shipping 
Combine : 

Hoiv a great monster called the Spearpoint 

Drorgan came across the sea and sort 

affray ed the English. 

Let us now go back to speak of how, in this 
same year a thousand nine hundred and two, the 
English were greatly affrayed by reason of a huge, 
mighty, perilous, and dreadful monster that came 
from the West across the sea to England. The 
bigness thereof was a marvel to behold, and men 
called it Spearpoint Drorgan, for it had as it were 
great spears on its head and neck, so that none 
could in anywise overcome or sit upon it. 

Now this Drorgan was puissant on land as on 
the water, for it was both a Drorgan and a Sea 
Fish, and for this reason it was called the Great 

Now the English, especially those who had no 
ships to sell, were sore discomforted when they 
knew that the Spearpoint Drorgan was coming; 
for it was bruited abroad that the monster was seiz- 
ing upon all the English ships that it encountered 
by the way, so that the English began to fear there 
would be no more vessels left to them wherein to 
carry their banners. For you must know th.nt the 
English take pride that they have more ships, both 

The Booklovers Magazine 


great and small, than hath any other country. 
Also it was said that the Drorgan was minded to 
come a-land in England, and to seize and take 
away the Abbey Church of Westminster, and the 
Castle of London, and the King's castles, and his 
crowns, and sceptres, and orb, and all the treasures 
of the country. 

But I know that those who said these things 
were dismayed without reason, for in the end, as 
it hath been shewed me, the Drorgan, though of a 
truth it seized upon all the ships that could not 
avoid it, yet it spouted forth streams of gold to pay 
for them, so that no man received hurt or damage 

Howbeit there were some who sailed away when 
the Drorgan would have taken their ships, saying, 
"We would rather keep our ships than have the 
Drorgan's gold." 

Neither did the Drorgan seize or carry away any 
of the treasures of England, as it was bruited that 
it had a mind to do. 

But when It would have dug a hole under- 
neath London, the citizens would in nowise agree, 
saying that it behoved them to draw the line 

Mr. Gould lives in Endsleigh Street, a 
turning out of Tavistock Square, near the 
British Museum — a neighborhood full of 
literary memories. Christina Rossetti lived 
hard by; so did Thackeray. It was in 
Tavistock Square that George Borrow 

saw his publisher. Mr. A. B. Walkley, 
the famous dramatic critic, formerly of 
the Star and now of the Times, lives in 
Tavistock Square, and Mr. W. L. Court- 
ney, another famous critic, has recently 
taken a house in the same locality, close 
to his friend. 

Mr. Gould's study is decorated with mod- 
ern medievalisms. He calls it his " Froissart 
Room." Round the walls runs a frieze 
of colored caricatures. On one wall is a 
modern version of Chaucer's Canterbury 
Pilgrims, Mr. Chamberlain at their head, 
and the little Lord Chancellor as the wife 
of Bath. Mr. Gould's den at the IVest- 
minster Gazette office in Tudor Street is 
almost as austere as a Grub Street garret. 
It is littered with newspapers. Tall 
cabinets contain impressions of thousands 
of old caricatures. Here, every afternoon, 
Mr. Gould, cigarette in mouth, may be 
seen completing his cartoon for the follow- 
ing day. 

As a rule he does about five cartoons 
a week, though during the parliamentary 
session he dashes off, in addition, those 
vivid thumbnail caricature-portraits of the 


Miss Clara Balfour of Niger 
Smiled as she rode on a tiger. 

They returned from the ride 

With Clara inside, 

And the smile on the face of the tiger. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

chief debaters at Westminster, with which 
he illustrates his racy description of each 
day's debate. He is a hard worker, and 
his only hobby is doing another kind of 
drawing. He is fond of making studies 
of birds. He is a clubable man, and a 
witty after-dinner speaker. One of my 
pleasantest recollections is that of an 
evening with the jolly monks of the 
Whitefriars Club, a Fleet Street symposium 
of journalists over which Mr. Gould pre- 
sides. He is a jocund abbot, who wel- 
comes the stranger with true medieval 
hospitality. The American visitor who 

dines with the good friars catches a merry 
glimpse of the journalistic Bohemia which 
still defies the dulness and the decorum of 

Within the limits of this article it would 
be impossible to discuss the question as to 
what is the true scope and province of 
caricature ; but a few words on the dis- 
tinction between English and American 
caricature may be permissible. 

Caricature, according to a paper in 
Addison's Spectator, is the art of "pre- 
serving, amidst distorted Proportions and 
aggravated Features, some distinguishing 


" I'm afraid there's nothing the matter with you— just now," said the March Hare. 

" Of course there isn't," Alice replied rather crossly; " I told you so at first." 

" Ah! but there might be— at any moment," said the March Hare eagerly. "Microbes might come in 

at the window and dump themselves down on you. So I think I'll write out a little Prescription 

for you— let me see, what shall it be? Suppose we try Retaliation; there— 1 am sure that'll 

be splendid for you I " 
" Retaliation ? " repeated Alice in great astonishment; " what on earth is that ? " 
" It's a sort of a Revolver, you know," the March Hare sail' triumphantly. " You'll be able to shoot 

the microbes with it when they come in." 
Alice was more puzzled than ever. 

" But there's the Mad Hatter too, with a large box of Pills for me," she remarked. 
" Oh I " the March Hare replied confidentially; " you'd better take my prescription first, and then we 

can see about the Pills afterwards."—^ 'variation of "Alice in fVonderland." 

The Booklovers Magazine 



The Mad Hatter: You see that John Bull is overweighted by Imports. 
I have a simple plan to remedy this. I will cut the cord and you will see — 

An immediate result I 

Likeness to the Person, but in such a 
manner as to transform the most agree- 
able Beauty into the most odious Mon- 
ster." Strictly speaking, therefore, Mr. 
Gould is not a caricaturist at all, for the 
basis of his art is genial good-nature. He 
is a political humorist who aims at pleas- 
ing both sides, while taking care that the 
Tory dogs do not get the best of it. The 
only pure caricaturist in England is Mr. 
Max Beerbohm. His caricatures have the 
cruel humor, the pitiless mockery, and 
the psychological savagery of the Italian 
caricatura. He and he only inherits the 
traditions of Hogarth, Rowlandson, and 
Pellegrini. The truth is that we have 
grown too polite and too humane for real 
caricature. The English caricaturist must 
never give pain, must never draw blood. 
He is like a soldier who is forbidden to 
hurt the enemy. In France, in Germany, 
and in the United States, the caricaturist 
is not only permitted to wound, he is also 
expected to torture. That explains the 
anger evoked by Continental caricatures 
during the Boer War, anger so fierce that 

Mr. Chamberlain stupefied the French 
Government by threatening it with dire 
consequences if its caricaturists did not 
"mend their manners." The English 
mind for many years has been taught to 
regard Tenniel's cartoons as the utmost 
permissible limit of caricature. Tenniel, 
of course, was the incarnation of British 
respectability. He perfected the reverence 
of Punch for the great, the aristocratic, the 
important. The essence of caricature is 
irreverence, and Tenniel made it reverent. 
No wonder, then, that after being Ten- 
nielized for a generation, the British public 
was horrified at the irreverence of French 
and German caricaturists. 

Towards the close of the Tenniel era 
caricature was dead in England. It died 
of dullness. But in the London Stock 
Exchange there was a man who was des- 
tined to resurrect it, a man who saw that 
it was possible to have humor without 
cruelty, and ridicule without irreverence. 
The secret of Gould's art is to be found 
in the years which he spent on the Stock 
Exchange. That was his apprenticeship, 


The Booklovers Magazine 

not merely in the art of comic portraiture 
but also in the art of comic tact. Detach- 
ment is necessary to the pitiless caricatur- 
ist. He must not be in the same clubs 
and clique as his victims. The Stock 
Exchange is a club, like the House of 
Commons; and Gould practiced there for 
twenty years the art of painless humor. 
When he stepped from the one " house " 
to the other he merely changed his club, 
and it was not hard to preserve at West- 
minster the geniality he had cultivated in 
Throgmorton Street. 

and distort their features ? If he hurt their 
feelings, he would be quietly boycotted. 
Mr. Gould has adapted his genius to these 
peculiar conditions. He has thus defined 
his method: "To hit hard without giving 
of?ense. Directly a cartoon becomes abus- 
ive it fails in its efifect. This is purely the 
English ideal. In America the people like 
strong personal attack. An American 
caricaturist once expressed his surprise to 
me at the mildness of English caricature; 
he could not understand it until he came 
over here, when he soon found that the 


: ||-gW0gfn1 «lli«ef^| 

\''v4^j[^j!i I 


The Undertaker: 1 never did see such a corpse ! What's the use of saying you ain't dead, when I 

tell you you are ! 
The Corpse: But I'm not dead. 
The Premier Mourner: Pray be more considerate! You are spoiling a beautiful funeral! 

I have said that the caricaturist must be 
detached from his victims. In New York, 
Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, caricaturists are 
more detached. They live in a milieu of 
their own. In London the political cari- 
caturist is not so completely insulated. 
He rubs shoulders with politicians in the 
lobby of the House. He meets them at 
dinner. He rides with them in the Row. 
He shoots with them, hunts with them, 
yachts with them, and is generally a very 
clubable man. How, then, can he deform 

American style would not be tolerated. 
Our people do not like burlesque." There 
is no doubt that this difference in taste is a 
phenomenon which goes right into the 
roots of national character. It is worth 
the attention of psychologists and histor- 
ians. Why is American caricature cruel, 
while English caricature is humane? 
Doubtless, American caricature has been 
profoundly influenced by the German 
school, from Nast to Keppler, from Kep- 
pler to Opper. But we must dig deeper 

The Booklovers Magazine 


for the real explanation. Cruel caricature 
is a marie of political immaturity, of raw 
civilization. France, Germany, and the 
United States are still in their political 
teens. We in England have outgrown 
caricature and other diseases of political 
infancy. It may be that we are senile; at 
any rate, we are polite. It is true that we 
are not yet so polite as the Chinese, but 
we are creeping up, 

Mr. Gould is the politest caricaturist 
who ever lived. His favorite victim is Mr. 
Chamberlain. He has caricatured Mr. 
Chamberlain at least a thousand times. 
Yet he and Mr. Chamberlain are good 
friends. Indeed, after the hard-fought 
general election of 1895 Mr. Chamber- 
lain wrote to him saying that he had been 
as much amused as anybody, and sent him 
his photograph, inscribed : " From the real 
Chamberlain to the talented creator of the 
fictitious." Mr. Gould, not to be out- 
done, sent a set of his caricatures to Mr. 
Chamberlain. Fancy Thomas Nast and 
Boss Tweed exchanging compliments in 
this fashion ! The explanation is to be 
found in the fact that Mr. Gould never 
distorts the features of his victims. He 
never turns " the most agreeable Beauty 
into the most odious Monster." He does 
not caricature physical peculiarities ; he 
reproduces them. He never makes a man 
hateful or ridiculous or contemptible. He 
puts his worms on his hooks as if he loved 

It may be said that the humane carica- 
turist is less powerful than the cruel, but 
it is not true. In England the surest way 
to make a man popular is to abuse him. 
Abuse with us is a short cut to glory. The 
Irish members abused Mr. Balfour into 
fame, just as the Radical press and Radi- 
cal orators abused Mr. Chamberlain into 
popularity. If Radicals were to praise 
Mr. Chamberlain for a year he would sink 
into nonentity. He knows this, and when 
the volley of abuse slackens for a moment 
he takes care to draw the fire by dangling 
out some provocation from the political 

Mr. Gould has a keen eye for political 

Mr. Chamberlain: Hooray! I've got 'em to call 
me names again. 

points, and he is always on the right nail 
at the right second. But he is too astute 
to be abusive. His caricatures are gauges 
of political weather. No leader-writer 
pounces on a point so alertly and so accu- 
rately. He jumps before the average wit. 
He never fumbles about on the fringe of 
the fight. He gets into the very centre 
of it. He has a genius for simplification. 
Out of the mass of stodgy verbiage which 
English newspapers dump upon the patient 
brains of their readers he extracts the one 
vital fact, and pictorializes it. He thinks 
in pictures. Indeed, his caricatures are 
"brief abstracts of the time." That is 
the secret of his power in politics. He is 
not a jejune commentator. He is an 
original thinker who solidifies political gas 
and packs it into daily tabloids. Unlike 
many other caricaturists he lives in the 
very heart of politics, with the tape at his 
elbow. Politicians are his daily bread. 
He lives on them. They feed him with 
ideas. Like the Chicago swine who walk 
in at one end as pigs and come out at the 
other as sausages, Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Balfour, Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, the 
Duke of Devonshire, Lord Rosebery, Sir 
William Harcourt, Sir Henry Campbell- 
Bannerman, Mr. Asquith, and Mr. Morley 
walk into his little factory as great, wise, 
solemn, and eminent beings, and come out 
as caricatures. Yet, although he hits hard, 
he has never made an enemy. "I etch," 
he says, "with vinegar, not with vitriol." 
He never caricatures women. Lady Lon- 
donderry, indeed, is the only woman who 

figures in his gallery of cartoons, and he 
took care to make her stately and beauti- 
ful. He is a capital lecturer, and has often 
been invited to pay a visit to that paradise 
of lecturers, America; but we cannot spare 
him. When he yields, as we all yield, 
sooner or later, to your wiles, I am sure 
you will give him a hearty welcome. 

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Four Notable Pictures 

No one of little Schleswig-Holstein's 
many artist sons does it more honor or puts 
more of it into his work than Hans Peter 
Feddersen. Born in 1848, he studied 
under Achenbach in Diisseldorf, and with 
Kalckreuth in Weimar. Then, after his 
wander-years in Italy and Eastern Europe, 
he returned to his Frisian home, and 
devoted himself to landscape and animal 
painting. None of his previous works 
awakened so much interest as the recent 
portrait of his daughter reproduced on the 
opposite page. Vital, direct, it has a couch 
of universalizing genius in it which makes 
the picture something more than an 
individual portrait. 

fellow, soldier in 1870, and writer of 
vaudeville, interested in life's every side — 
this was no man to rest content with the 
pictures in the grand style with which he 
began in the sixties. He soon yielded to 
his own and the public's taste for humor. 
In Swift he found a congenial soul. 
Gulliver's adventures among the Lillipu- 
tians afforded a subject for the famous 
picture now in Mr. Schemm's gallery, 
showing the shipwrecked sailor held in 
the bonds with which his pigmy foes 
had fastened him in sleep. The char- 
acter of the picture is such as to call 
into fullest play the excellent technique 
and finish of detail which allied Vibert 
with Meissonier. 

George Inness' position as the greatest 
of American landscape-painters grows 
more secure with the passing of years. 
His was the greatest share in uplifting the 
despised and sickly art of seventy years 
ago to its present level. It was a great work, 
which only Inness' prodigious vitality 
enabled him to accomplish — a vitality that 
is the master-note of his art. His broad 
sympathy has left us interpretations of every 
mood of nature, from the quiet harmony 
of the summer Landscape, here shown, to 
the scarlet and gold of autumn, from sun- 
set splendor to twilight gray — all broadly 
painted in perfect tone. 

The personality of Vibert, whose Gulli- 
ver and the Lilliputians is here reproduced, 
is a strong clement in his pictures. Of 
Falstaffian bulk, shrewd, rollicking hail- 

Fame came early to Emile Friant. Few 
painters have had this Alsace-Lorrainer's 
good fortune in winning the grand prize 
of the Salon at twenty-six. Born in 1863, 
he was sent by the municipality of Nancy 
to Paris to study. Later, government aid 
enabled him to visit the great galleries of 
Europe and to make the pilgrimage to 
Africa's deserts which the vogue of Orien- 
talism had made almost imperative. On b'S 
return he painted his grand prix picture 
All Saints' Day, now in the Luxembourg, 
and won recognition at a leap. The pic- 
ture shows the interior of a cemetery, 
where a faithful group are carrying flowers 
for the graves of their lost ones, and a little 
girl is preparing to drop a coin in the cup 
of the blind beggar huddled against the 
wall. It is an obvious theme, rendered 
with accuracv and truth. 







< k 

CO < 


Opf^^^RD ot NEW 


Their Outlook 

on Twentieth Century 



In a recent symposium on the question, 
" Has New England declined in national 
influence during the last thirty years?" 
the negative answers were all from politi- 
cal leaders and from captains of industry. 
The only educator contributing to the 
discussion, President G. Stanley Hall of 
Clark University, said : " When I think of 
the great writers in the days of Holmes, 
Longfellow, Emerson, and Lowell, and then 
reflect upon the commercial, academic, and 
literary developments in such centres as 
New York and Chicago, I cannot escape 
the fear that New England's influence on 
our national life is less than it was thirty 
years ago." 

Mr. J. T. Trowbridge, contributing to 
the same discussion and speaking for 
authors, said regarding the influence of 
living writers : "It must be conceded that 
the influence of New England is, in litera- 
ture today, immeasurably less than ir was 
thirty years ago." 

Senator Hoar, who is " the scholar in 
politics," m the same symposium said that 
only in the department of education were 
New Englandcrs as strong relatively as 
they were a generation ago. 

How marked the change is between the 
past and the present state of New England 
with respect to leadership in literature may 
be shown best, perhaps, by reverting to 
that last inclusive gathering of its con- 
tributing authors, brought together in 

June, 1882, by the firm of Houghton, 
Mifflin and Company, in honor of Mrs. 
Harriet Beecher Stowe on her seven- 
tieth birthday. The guests included 
A. Bronson Alcott, T. B. Aldrich, Arlo 
Bates, Rose Terry Cooke, Julia C. R. 
Dorr, Asa Gray, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
W. D. Howells, Lucy Larcom, Louise 
Chandler Moulton, James Parton, Nora 
Perry, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, F. B. 
Sanborn, Horace E. Scudder, J. T. Trow- 
bridge, F. H. Underwood, E. P.Whipple, 
Adeline D. T. Whitney, John G. Whittier, 
and Justin Winsor. 

And yet remarkable as this list is, it is 
at once evident to the reader who s;ans it 
thoughtfully that it is by no means inclu- 
sive of all the men and women who at 
that period were eminent in New England's 
literary circle. For one reason or another 
many of the most notable authors were 
unable to attend the dinner. Of that 
larger circle more than half, witiiin the 
past twenty years, have joined what Edwin 
Markham calls " the old democracy of 
Death." Nearly all of them died at a 
ripe old age. Of those of the Old Guard 
who are still living the average age is 
more than seventy years — showing the 
longevity of the profession of letters. 

I have observed that whenever a 
Boston author dies New York immediately 
becomes a great literary centre," says 
T. B. Aldrich, in l\is new Ponkapog Papers. 


The Booki.overs Magazine 

This is a way a loyal champion of the 
Old Guard's fame has of girding at the 
disposition of other sections of the country 
to count New luigland as an ever-lessening 
factor in the life of the country. And his 
loyalty compels admiration. Nor is he 
without some reason for his position. If 
the list of the survivors of the Golden 
Age in our national literature be scanned, 
it is true that it will not reveal r.n Emerson 
or a Hawthorne, nor are there any such 
looming up among the later group of 
authors who have emerged since 1882. 
But there are still among us some noble 
figures who must be reckoned with, men 
who have an air of dignity and wisdom, 
and who give the impression of loyalty 
to high ideals and noble traditions at a 
time when society in general is in a state 
of ferment — spiritual and intellectual — 
and without great leaders to rally the 
perplexed and restless multitude. 

Their point of view, as they face the strik- 
ing social, intellectual, and political changes 
which the nineteenth century has brought, 
or the twentieth century prophesies, it 
may be profitable to ascertain and to 
meditate upon. Are their hopes of an 
earlier period of life being realized ? Have 
they faith in the American republic still ? 

Colonel Higginson has recently said that 
Mr. Aldrich's boat of fame, on which he 
will " float down towards immortality, 
even if he never attains it," will be his 
poem Fredericksburg. His latest collection 
of short stories, A Sea Turn and Other 
Matters, has the exquisite finish of all his 
work, and reveals anew that delicate wit 
and huinor which are all his own. His 
obiter dicta on a variety of subjects and his 
charming essay on Robert Herrick — for 
whom he has much affinity as a fellow 
lapidary in verse — which he has grouped 
together in the recent volume of Ponkapog 
Papers, these have proved to his long-time 
admirers that, in becoming a man of large 
wealth and a " globe trotter," he has not 
wholly ceased to be a man of letters, as 
some feared might be the case. For he 
had been ominously dumb for some time. 
Hut one cannot wholly escape the suspicion 

that if this gifted artificer had been more 
of a democrat, less of a man of leisure, 
and a trifle better acquainted with the 
wolf that hovers about the door of most 
authors' homes, he might have been a 
larger figure in our literature and nearer 
the popular heart. His Monody on the 
Death of irendell Phillips showed that he 
appreciated a democrat and a public cen- 
sor. His ode on the immigration problem. 
Unguarded Gates, proved that on occasion 
his art could call the people to face a peril. 
But, broadly speaking, he has not con- 
cerned himself much with functions of 
poesy akin to prophesy, and during the 
eventful five years since 1898, when we as 
a nation launched out on unchartered 
seas, he has been mute. 

Professor Arlo Bates has taught English 
literature for many years in an institution 
where emphasis is put on science — pure 
and applied. His fiction and verse have 
not been of the major sort, but will repay 
reading now and again while the years go 
by, as revealing to some degree the clash 
between latter-day Puritanism and the 
neo-Catholicism and neo-humanism of the 
end of the century in New England. 
Professor Bates has not participated pub- 
licly in the controversy over recent national 
policies, but we know that he looks upon 
expansion of our territory as symptomatic 
of a loss of national ideals — only tempor- 
arily so possibly — and betraying "that 
American feeling has been debauched by 
prosperity, and that mercantile ideals have 
largely replaced the ideals of our fore- 
fathers." His own poem, J'he Torch - 
Bearers, he thinks describes the present 
situation, although it was written several 
years before expansion beyond seas : 

" Wliose senates have become a market place 

Wliere laws are to the highest bidder sold; 
Where honesty only secures ilist^race, 

Anil honor has no measure save hard gold ; 
Where parties claim tiie people's sufferance 

Not for their virtue but for foe's misdeed ; 
Where public trusts from shame toshame advance, 

And faction vies uith faction in its greed; 
Where pledges are like balls which jugglers toss ; 

Wiiere no abuse can [lass belief; 
Wliere patriotism means — profit ami loss — 

Anil one scarce knows a statesman from a 


Photograph copyright by Purdy 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Professor Bates sees certain bright sides 
of life today, especiall)' welcominij the mul- 
tiplication of deeds of altruism which are 
" the vital proof of the integrity of inten- 
tion of at least a large minority of the 
people." He is too strong a believer in 
the ultimate rightncss of evolution not to 
be sure for the race that large events will 
work out in final good ; but he does not 
see any hope that "as a nation we are in 
the way of recovering what we have lost, 
or of gaining what will be an equivalent 
benefit," though he admits that if "the 
nation goes down, we will have proved to 
the race that altruistic ideals are practically 
possible to an extent hitherto undreamed 

Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton once 
had the ear of both editors and the public, 
but she seldom publishes now. Whether 
this is because she does not sing as often, 
or because she does not wish to publish, 
one cannot say. So excellent an author- 
ity as Colonel Higginson credits her with 
the best technique of any woman poet our 
country has had, and W. Garrett Horder, 
of London, has given her a place near to 
Mrs. Browning as a sonnet writer, her 
only rival among moderns, in his opinion, 
being Christina Rossetti. Mrs. Moulton 
has had abundant fancy and much tender 
sentiment, but seldom passion or profound 
thought. She has done much to intro- 
duce to her countrymen some of the lesser 
known but gifted British singers, notably 
Philip Bourke Marston. She knows 
British literary circles as few Americans 
do, and her home in Boston is a rendez- 
vous for the literary elite. But as a 
prophetess dealing with past or present 
problems she will not be remembered. 
Mrs. Moulton regrets the expansion of 
our nation. She thinks that "we have 
enough to do to make the United States 
what it ought to be without sailing away 
after new possessions." 

Twenty years ago no American woman 
had a wider reputation at home antl 
abroad than Klizabeth Stuart Phelps. She 
was reared in an atmosphere of Puritan 
culture; was trained by her father, the 

famous Professor Austen Phelps, and by her 
mother, Elizabeth Stuart, who was a gifted 
author of juvenile literature. In training, 
in style, and in disciplined thought Miss 
Phelps had a preparation for a career in 
letters, especially fiction, which theoreti- 
cally should have enabled her to rival 
Mary Augusta Arnold (Mrs. Humphry 
Ward) as a writer of fiction of permanent 
worth, and as an interpreter — from the 
woman's standpoint — of the intellectual 
storm and stress of her time. But her 
most ardent admirer can hardly claim that 
she has lived up to her opportunities, or 
made good the expectations aroused by 
her early work. It may be only an eddy 
in the current, or it may be a permanent 
deflection of the stream, but the fact is 
that just now speculation as to the life of 
the soul in other worlds — whether it be 
expressed in verse, as in Milton's classic 
but unread poems, or in prose, like Mrs. 
Phelps-Ward's The Gates Jjar, Beyond the 
Gates, and The Gates Between — is not the 
sort of literature which appeals to either 
editors or the reading public of today. And 
while there is a large, though somewhat 
elect, constituency for literalistic interpre- 
tations of Christianity — by the Russian 
Tolstoi and the American Sheldon, and in 
such books as Mrs. Phelps-Ward's A Sin- 
gular Life — this is not the sort of literature 
that satisfies editors or a majority of the 
unsentimental readers of this prosaic, real- 
istic age. Mrs. Ward is giving herself 
devotedly now to the anti-vivisection cru- 
sade in this country. She vehemently 
denounced the war with Spain over Cuba 
as unnecessary and unchristian, one into 
which we rushed "with the manners of a 
retreat for the insane, to the crime of a 
perfectly avoidable war for a totally inade- 
quate cause." And, of course, she has 
deplored tlie course of events since then. 

Mr. Franklin B. Sanborn is the most 
venerable and authoritative person left in 
Concord, his only rival as a survivor of its 
classic period passing recently with the 
death of William Ellery Channing — the 
poet. It has been Mr. Sanborn's good 
fortune to serve as a sort of official inter- 

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Photograph by Notman 


preter of Emerson, Thoreau, and Chan- 
ning since their death ; and his Hterary 
output of late years, apart from journaHsm, 
has been mainly that of reminiscence and 
gathering together data, invaluable of its 
kind, about eminent Concordians. He is 
now at work on a history of New Hamp- 
shire, his native State, for the American 
Commonwealth series. As a regular con- 
tributor to the Springfield Republican he 
combines, as a book reviewer and a com- 
mentator on current events, an encyclo- 
pedic range of information about many 
literatures and nations, classic and modern, 
and a bitter, caustic censorship on men and 
movements — a dual equipment unequaled 
by any working journalist in this country, 
his work rivaling in these respects the best 
work done in the ablest of the English 
weeklies. Native wit, vast stores of perti- 
nent anecdote, unrelenting and increasing 
animosity toward public men who happen 
to go contrary to his opinion, and a grip 
on the facts of history, political and liter- 

ary, make him a pungent, racy critic, and 
often a useful public servant. Mr. San- 
born's forte is destructive rather than con- 
structive criticism ; and the over-statement 
and very evident personal animus in much 
of his denunciation of men and measures 
weaken the force of his chronic pessimism. 
For the past decade there has been no 
more unceasing American denouncer of 
the courses of national history than Mr. 
Sanborn. No epithets have been too severe 
to apply to President McKinley or Roose- 
velt, no language too excoriating with 
which to indict his fellow-countrymen's 
course. "A snobbish and wholly un-Amer- 
ican pursuit and enjoyment of material 
wealth has emasculated the republican 
sentiments of the Republican party." 
" Our politics are base, and the organs of 
opinion in press and pulpit are disgrace- 
fully servile." The city of Washington, 
the national capital, " has sunk into an 
oriental submission to fictitious destiny 
worse than that which pollutes Constanti- 


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Photograph by H. G. Smith 


Photograph by Sotman 


nople." President McKinley was "a 
Methodist turned brigand," and "his 
imperial glucosity"; President Roosevelt 
is a "truth-suppressing, birth-promoting, 
Jew-renouncing, circuit-preaching presi- 
dent, and a gushing fountain of second- 
hand ethics and machine-made politics." 
Secretary Hay has thrown "the stale old 
Ten Commandments to the winds," and 
Secretary Root is "the tactless and falsify- 
ing Root." Indeed, so few are the men 
in public life today whom Mr. Sanborn can 
speak well of, that Benjamin Swift's words 
in The Eternal Conflict, discussing pessi- 
mism, inevitably occur: "Whenever a 
man's hatred becomes universal we have a 
right to distrust him." 

J. T. Trowbridge, whose roots go back 
to the anti-slavery controversy, and whose 
writings for juveniles once hatl a very large 
circulation and popularity, has recently 
publishcil not only a revised collection of 
his many poems, but a story of his life and 
his recollections of some of the major as 

well as minor figures in American letters 
and politics. It is sufiFused with liberalism 
and optimism, and reveals him as reaping 
the harvest of a tranquil mind, unenvying 
another's lot. 

Charles Eliot Norton, in the seclusion 
of his home at Shady Side, Cambridge, 
devotes his time mainly now to the 
delights of literature and correspondence. 
Relieved of regular lectures at Harvard, 
where he was professor of the history of 
art from 1874 to 1898, he has abundant 
leisure to act as literary executor of 
Ruskin, and to carry on his researches 
in Italian literature. No American, prob- 
ably, has had a more distinguished circle 
of fricntls in Europe than the group with 
whom Professor Norton has corresponded 
and hail intellectual commerce. For James 
Russell Lowell and George William Curtis 
in this country, and for Carlyle and Ruskin 
in Great Britain, he has served as literary 
executor, doing the honorable task with 
taste, ami with mingled candor and reserve. 

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Photograph by Elliott & Fry 


Now that most of his intimate friends in 
Englanti are dead, and his former comrades 
in Cambridge likewise, and with his advice 
both as to Harvard University and national 
policy unheeded, he makes a somewhat 
pathetic figure in his old age, never having 
sought or won popular respect or love. 

As to his net influence upon the students 
who have come under him at Harvard, or 
upon the public thought so far as he has 
influenced it, there is by no means agree- 
ment of opinion. An aristocrat by taste 
and a democrat in principle, his scholastic 
life, sheltered environment, and abhorrence 
of the vulgar and the common have com- 
bined to keep him far removed from men 
in the mass, and from knowledge of the 
plain people. 

The niece of Herman Grimm recently 
described her uncle as one who chose the 
past for his favorite abode, and all that he 
loved lay in bygone times. It has been 
much the same with Professor Norton. 
He is in essence a Greek and not an 

American ; and yet in all his many denun- 
ciations of the expansion policy and his 
attacks on the honesty of the chief officials 
of the republic and indictments of the 
American people during the past few 
years, he has seldom if ever failed to show 
what Mr. Scudder says Mr. Lowell showed 
in his old age, as he faced facts in American 
life which he disliked: "a pathetic note of 
faith in spite of the evidence of sight." 
It is to be regretted, however, that so 
many distinguished foreigners, visiting this 
country with letters of introduction to 
Professor Norton, must perforce get their 
impressions of the health of the republic 
from one who so seldom sees any health 
in it ; Paul Bourget, in what he has to 
say in his chapter on "Education" in 
Outre Mer, reflects what is meant by 
this statement. 

Julia Ward Howe, since she came to 
Boston a young bride, has always been 
independent enough to look at matters in 
a less provincial way than the natives, and, 


The Booklovers Magazine 

although always in with the Brahmin 
class, she has never been far away from 
the popular mind and heart. Hence she 
never has sympathized with denunciation 
of the war with Spain, and has rejoiced in 
the expansion of the United States as a 
beneficent power. Early in the expansion 
movement she earned, as her reward of 
merit, a scathing denunciation in verse, 
by Mr. William Lloyd Garrison, 2d, who, 
like his distinguished father, is the self- 
appointed censor of Boston and the 
infallible conserver of its ethics. 

Mrs. Howe deplores the altered standards 
of society and of living at Newport, where 
she makes her summer home ; and she 
loses no opportunity in her benign old age 
to impress correct standards of simple, 
pure, intellectual, and spiritual living upon 
her hearers. Her passion for social service 
endures; just now the Italian colony of 
Boston and the Armenians of Russia, 
sufifering from oflficial oppression, are her 
special objects of solicitude. The author 
of an immortal hymn of patriotism still 
has faith in her kind and in her native 

T. W. Higginson has recently begun to 
write supplementary chapters of reminis- 
cence to be pendant to his charming book. 
Cheerful Yesterdays. He also has just 
issued a collection of translations of 
Petrarch's sonnets, in these revealing 
anew the classical side of his learning and 
equipment for life, not always remembered 
when dwelling on his civic and literary 
career. Fresh from tlie press, also, is his 
history of American literature, in which 
Mr. H. W. Boyuton collaborated. It 
is valuable not only for its estimates of 
men and of books, but also for its wise 
comments on present-day national charac- 
teristics, tendencies, and duties. Here, as 
in almost all that Colonel Higginson has 
said or written throughout his long career, 
there is a note of urbanity and of optimism. 

In being a dissenting patriot Colonel 
Higginson never becomes a ranting boor, 
as revolters from the way of the majority 
not infreciuently become. His attitude 
toward expansion has not been opposition 

to it per se. He has no antagonism toward 
the enlargement of national territory, 
provided it be done with free consent of 
the inhabitants of such territories. He 
would be glad to hear of the annexation 
of Canada under such conditions of con- 
sent, and of Cuba also. His objection to 
the annexation of the Philippines was that 
it was against the will of the inhabitants 
of the islands. Early in the controversy 
over expansion, when many of Colonel 
Higginson's class were denouncing the 
movement in unmeasured terms and pre- 
dicting the downfall of the Republic, he 
called to mind Fisher Ames' comparison 
of a republic to a raft, the passengers on 
which constantly had their feet in the 
water, but which never foundered. Thus he 
let it be seen that he was not as despairing 
in his outlook on the future of democracy 
as some of his associates were. 

As a man of letters looking out upon 
the enormous increase of material wealth 
in the nation now, he does not tremble. 
Wealth, he sees, may be the friend and 
promoter of literature. So far from think- 
ing that the best was in the past, he 
believes that we have not yet arrived in 
our literature. We are not yet producing; 
we are digesting emigrants, laying up capi- 
tal, and getting ready for that leisure and 
refinement out of which literature comes. 
He foresees a turning back from the dom- 
inant scientific mood to the intuitional or 
inspirational, and with that a marked new 
birth of creative and imaginative literature. 

When the history of liberal Christian- 
ity, as set forth by New Englanders during 
the last third of the nineteenth century, 
onies to be written, a very important place 
will be given to the Rev. T. T. Munger, 
author of On the Thresholti, The Freedom 
of Faith, The Appeal to Life, and the writer 
of fine estimates of Horace Bushnell and 
Jonathan Edwards. Others of the liberal 
teachers have had greater prominence as 
publicists, journalists, and popular preach- 
ers, but none of them have surpassed Dr. 
Munger in depth of thought, exquisite- 
ness of expression, and an atmosphere of 
mingled piety ant! culture. In Great 



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Britain quite as much as in this country 
he has done a pioneer work in the libraries 
and pulpits of thoughtful men, interpreting 
the old spiritual truths in the light of the 
new world-knowledge of geology, biology, 
psychology, and Biblical criticism. 

Dr. Munger's place among American 
authors was won decades ago, and it is 
most appropriate now to turn to him, both 
as a man of letters and as a teacher of eth- 
ics, for an opinion on the course of national 
history. Dr. Munger justly deems himself 
a fairly sound idealist, but he tries to keep 
in mind that he lives in a real world, and 
that idealism and reality are to be so related 
that they shall not destroy one another. 
He believes that the greater part of the 
people of this country regarded the acqui- 
sition of territory in the Philippines as an 
incident in the war, a moral necessity, the 
only possible thing to be done. His 
memory goes back to the opposition to 
the acquisition of Texas, now seen to be 
uncalled for and most futile. 

Dr. Munger believes that already the 
philosophy of optimism and the newly dis- 
covered method of evolution as a philos- 
ophy of history have profoundly affected 
the popular mind, so that these, rather 
than any national policy or ambition, shape 
the people's attitude toward events as they 
come to pass. He sees an evolutionary 
process in the instincts and movements of 
Americans out from the continent toward 
new possessions. As to whether we are 
more or less materialistic than we used to 
be, he dares not say that we are, in the 
light of what he knows of the ethics of 
the past. Much depends upon what is 
meant by "spirituality" and by "material- 
ism." Much of the spirituality of today 
that takes the form of charity, love of 
neighbor, good-will, he deems far better 
than the introspective spirituality of the 
past. The most that we can say he thinks 
is that we are different from our fathers, 
better in some respects and worse in 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Last but not least comes the grand old 
man of New England, Dr. Edward Everett 
Hale, who, retired from the active pastor- 
ate and from all journalistic labors save 
writing a column or two in the Christian 
Register each week, is now free to go and 
come, preaching and teaching. He has 
had the good fortune to see all of his 
many books, issued by different publishers, 
brought together in a uniform edition ; to 
write his Memories of a Hundred Years; 
and to receive the homage of his fellow- 
citizens in a public meeting of unprece- 
dented dignity and beauty, on his eightieth 
birthday. His last years are devoted to 
preaching the old gospel of human brother- 
hood and divine fatherhood, the gospel of 
" All together" and " Lend a hand " ; and 
he still visits his down-town office regularly 
to act as almoner of the gifts of the well- 
to-do for the needy, perchance the suffering 
Boers in Bermuda today, tomorrow the 
isolated, friendless soldiers in the Philip- 
pines. His especial hobbies, as he faces 
the future, are the establishment of inter- 
national arbitration on a firmer basis, the 
construction of an intercontinental Amer- 
ican railway, the reconciliation of races 
within our borders, and old-age pensions. 
They all have their root in his love of men 
as brothers, in his hatred of war, and in 
his long-held belief in socialism fused with 
American individualism. 

While Dr. Hale is a man of peace and 
a champion of arbitration, or rather of a 
permanent international tribunal for the 
adjudication of all international disputes, 
he is enough of a realist to know that 
pending some such international agree- 
ment there must come times when force 
must be used; hence he has always 
defended the war with Spain over Cuba 
as a justifiable use of force — as much so as 
our use of force in subduing the Indians, 
in overawing the Barbary Powers, or in 
putting an end to slavery in this country. 

Very near the heart of the common 
people and disposed to trust their instincts 
rather than a priori reasoning based on 
doctrinaire principles. Dr. Hale has not 
worried about the extension of our author- 

ity over outlying islands, being confident 
that our power has been, and will be, used 
for beneficent ends. On this, as on many 
other matters involving national policy. 
Dr. Hale has differed from intimate friends 
like Senator Hoar, and other graduates of 
Harvard and liberal Christians, with whom 
he sees eye to eye on most other matters. 
His ingrained, constitutional optimism and 
his faith in the common people, in their 
instinct to do right and be right, keeps 
him from being pessimistic or destructive in 
criticism of men and measures when other 
men lose faith and heart. Senator Hoar, 
summing up Dr. Hale's life on his eightieth 
birthday, referred to him as one who 
" comprehended as scarcely any other man 
the true spirit of the American people," 
And it was a true estimate. 

Reviewing the opinions uttered by these 
honored men and women, one finds dis- 
sonance rather than harmony of thought, 
with the bass of pessimism rather more 
pronounced than the treble of faith and 
joy. How much of this is due to the age 
of those who speak, and how much to a 
certain aloofness and distrust of the move- 
ments of the masses of men which it is 
quite natural for men of letters to assume, 
it is not for the writer to say. Precisely 
the same difference of opinion among men 
of letters existed in England during the 
recent South African war, and an even 
deeper note of distrust is struck now in 
Great Britain when British men and 
women of letters are interviewed as to the 
future of the British empire; and it by no 
means is confined to the veteran literators. 

Meanwhile the Republic goes sturdily 
on its way along new paths, with a leader 
at the head of it who has faith and cour- 
age ; and to those who look about and see 
no idealism, there come voices like those 
of President Tucker of Dartmouth Col- 
lege, saying: " Seek it not in old forms or 
places, but in the new ; and thou shalt not 
be unrewarded for thy search." 

Fateful Tresidencial Conventions 

/^l" J The Divjsion of the Democratic Pariy- 




^ ihe Dis/nreffradon o/ Tfepubhcan Pc 



The most original invention of Amer- 
ican practical politics is the nominating 
convention. We are so used to this 
agency that we are apt to consider it an 
inheritance from the remote past ; while, 
as a matter of fact, there are plenty of 
vigorous men living who remember the 
first real national political convention, and 
a few survive who actually attended the 
Whig gathering at Harrisburg in Decem- 
ber, 1839, which met to nominate Henry 
Clay for the presidency — and didn't. 

We have only to remember that popu- 
lar government first reached any adequate 
expression in our own country, to see that 
the convention must be a modern develop- 
ment. And it took half of our political 
existence to get it adjusted as a means of 
representing the popular will. 

A remarkable result of the convention 
system has been to eliminate nearly every 
one of the great political leaders from the 
presidency. Almost without exception 
they have failed of the honor, while men 
of secondary importance in the public eye 
have won. Of course some of these have 
turned out to be admirable men of first 
abilities — like Lincoln, or Cleveland — but 
none of them was the prime leader of his 
party. Of those who have wanted the 
presidency, and failed, it is only necessary 
to mention Clay, Webster, Cass, Douglas, 
Seward, Breckinridge, Pendleton, Thur- 
man, Hendricks, Hancock, Blaine, Ran- 
dall, Sherman, Reed, and Hill. This roll 
is sufficiently long to impress the point. 

Another astonishing result of conven- 
tions has been that many of the great 
leaders have been nominated in the very 
years when there was no hope of their suc- 
cess. Clay, Cass, Scott, Seymour, Blaine, 
and Bryan have seen the waters rise to 
their lips and then recede. In fact, noth- 
ing is sadder in our history than the grue- 
some procession of disappointed statesmen 
who have fought, not always gloriously, 
for the prize, and have sunk consecutively 
into the grave of defeated ambitions. It 
may be that this has been best for the 
country ; that in a republic it is better to 
have men of secondary abilities, who 
" keep their ears close to the ground," 
than to promote those who have shone 
most conspicuously in the forum. 

Of the many conventions that have been 
held, four have been selected to illustrate 
the uncertainties of this sort of exposition 
of the popular will, and to exemplify espe- 
cially those dramatic features which have 
entered into politics with such drastic 
results. These are the Democratic con- 
ventions of i860 and 1896, and the Repub- 
lican conventions of 1880 and 1892. A 
peculiar feature of these great contests is 
that, with a single exception, the conven- 
tion fight was followed by party defeat ; 
and in the exception noted — that of 1880 
— victory was won by a hair, only to be 
followed by defeat at the next election, 
the defeat being a direct result of the 1880 
convention. The dramatics have in each 
case presaged disaster. In each of those 


The Booklovers Magazine 

conventions the struggle was long and 
bitter over candidates and platforms, and 
in two of them great numbers of the dele- 
gates openly seceded. It is possible to 
write the whole political history of the last 
sixty years around the national conven- 
tions. No such effort will be attempted 
here, but rather an insight into the condi- 
tions which brought about those scenes so 
memorable, and of such great pith and 


Few in these days know or care any- 
thing about the Democratic convention of 
i860 ; and yet that was the most moment- 
ous in history, as it was the longest. Then 
and there the question of civil war was 
decided, and openly; though few expected 
the terrible years of blood which ensued. 

The place had been chosen four years 
previously, or it would never have been 
held in Charleston. Since the Cincinnati 
convention of 1856 had fought out the 
status of slavery, things had occurred 
which would have made a Northern city 
desirable. The Dred Scott decision had 
settled the national status of slavery, the 
Kansas-Nebraska bill had settled tempo- 
rarily the question as to the Territories, 
and the rising tide of moral opposition to 
slavery had reached such flood that angry 
debates took place in the House of Repre- 
sentatives; members came to blows, and 
went constantly armed. The time had 
come when the question must be threshed 
out ; and it was strategically unfortunate 
that the battleground for the nomination 
of the dominant party should be in Charles- 
ton, whence so much secession talk had 
emanated in the past, and which was later 
to take the lead in deeds. 

Long before the convention met it was 
apparent that the issue was to be clean- 
cut. Douglas was the candidate of the 
North, and his ground was that of the 
Cincinnati convention, the Dred Scott 
decision, and the Kansas-Nebraska bill. 
Slavery was not to be forced unwillingly 
on any Territory where it was not wanted. 
The Freeport Doctrine was the last stand. 

It was this doctrine which Douglas had 
uttered in reply to Lincoln's searching 
question as to whether slavery could be 
introduced into any Territory against the 
will of its people. This created the 
dilemma which killed Douglas as a 
national candidate of the united Democ- 
racy, though it did re-elect him senator. 
His reply was that the question was of no 
importance because slavery was controlled 
by local police regulations, and that any 
Territorial legislature could, by "unfriendly 
legislation," make slavery impossible even 
for an hour. The Southern Democracy 
did not want unfriendly legislation possible 
for a moment. They demanded that 
slavery be maintained as a national institu- 
tion all over the federal territory, protected 
to the last ditch. This doctrine Jefferson 
Davis announced in the Senate; on this 
line of cleavage Democracy split. 

The convention met April 23, with 
Caleb Cushing in the chair, and never 
ended in a legal manner. The delegates 
were composed of the strongest men in 
the party from all sections. It was to be 
a battle of the giants. It was known in 
advance that Douglas had a majority of 
the delegates, but not the necessary two- 
thirds. The platform, however, was to 
be adopted by a majority vote. Of the thirty- 
three States, seventeen were controlled by 
the Southern men, including Oregon and 
California, which were dominated by 
Federal office-holders — of whom over five 
hundred in all were present to aid the 
Southern cause. The fight began in the 
Committee on Resolutions, which was 
composed of one member from each 
State. Five days they struggled for a com- 
promise, but without avail. The scenes 
in committee were at times exciting, but 
on the whole there was an earnest endeavor, 
in face of secession threats, to reach some 
common ground on which all could stand. 
No one pretended to underestimate the 
gravity of the situation ; and it is probable 
that all were equally honest, for there was 
not a single voice raised in favor of seces- 
sion, nor was there the slightest desire to 
sec it come, inevitable as it seemed if 





The Booklovers Magazine 


harmony was not secured. The vote of 
Oregon carried the platform of the Southern 
extremists, and was reported to the con- 
vention Friday evening. Then the flood- 
gates of oratory were let loose. 

The convention had gathered in silence. 
There was none of the hurrah so common 
in such gatherings. Old-line Whigs who 
had followed Clay so constantly to defeat, 
but who were now allied with slavery, 
loved the Union, and hoped in desperation 
that it might be preserved. Men from 
the North — fresh from the atmosphere 
where slavery had been condemned as 
contrary to good morals and good states- 
manship, as against the spirit of the 
Declaration of Independence, and only to 
be protected where it existed — were deter- 
mined to stand firm though the national 
fabric were rocked to its centre. Southern 
statesmen of the new school, which had 

grown up under Davis, were no less deter- 
mined. They were forceful, brainy men, 
who were willing to risk all on the hazard 
of a single plank in the platform. When 
the convention met to hear the platform 
report, all knew that compromise had been 
unavailing, that little less than a miracle 
could carry the majority report, and that 
disintegration might result ; yet there were 
few who faltered then or afterwards. The 
issue was before them. It must be met, 
even if it meant a clash of worlds. 

On that night was secession born. 
Henry B, Payne, of Ohio, reported the 
minority platform, which took the Douglas 
ground. In favor of it he made a most 
earnest speech, in which he admitted that 
the fate of the party, and probably of the 
nation, hung on the decision of the con- 
vention. In vain he pleaded with his 
Southern brethren not to force the issue. 

Courtery of Harper and Bros, 



The Booklovers Magazine 

In vain he protested that the minority 
wished only the execution of the laws as 
they then stood, leaving squatter sovereignty 
to the Territories. In closing he said : " I 
repeat that upon this question of Congres- 
sional non-intervention we are committed 
by the acts of Congress, we are committed 
by the acts of national Democratic con- 
ventions; we cannot recede without per- 
sonal dishonor, and, so help us God, we 
never will recede." 

The convention waited breathlessly for 
the answer of the Southerners. The reply 
came from Yancey, a tall, lean, eloquent 
delegate from Alabama, who had high 
standing in the party, and was noted as a 
fire-eater. Yet there was nothing in 
his speech he did not mean to be taken 
literally. The gauntlet boldly thrown down 
was accepted. He took exactly the ground 
that Lincoln had already taken with so much 
force — that the whole question hung on 
whether or not slavery was an immoral 
institution. As Yancey boldly charged. 


the position taken in the North was that, 
although slavery was against the laws of 
nature and God, it was legal according to 
the laws of man, and should have such 
protection only as the statutes gave it. 
Turning to the Northern delegates Yancey 
said : 

" You were wrong in not acknowledg- 
ing that slavery existed both by nature 
and the law of God." 

That was the issue, and as such it was 
fought out. Senator Pugh, of Ohio, rose 
and thanked God that at last there was 
an end of pretense and that the issue was 
clear. As tp the appeal made to the 
North to admit the morality of slavery, 
he said, most impressively : 

" Gentlemen of the South, you mistake 
us — you mistake us. We will not do it." 

Every person present knew that the 
hour had come. The situation was too 
tense for vociferous expression. The 
assemblage dissolved with every heart 
beating fiercely. The fate of the nation 
was being weighed in the balance. 

The irrepressible Ben Butler, of Massa- 
chusetts, tried to pour oil on the troubled 
waters solely by reaffirming the meaning- 
less and absurd platform adopted at 
Cincinnati to throw dust in people's eyes. 
It was too late for this. The issue was to 
be met. Butler appealed to the Bible as 
a document that was open to all sorts of 
interpretation and misinterpretation, and 
thought the Democratic party ought not 
to try to improve on the Scriptures ; but 
he was overwhelmingly voted down. 

One interesting speech followed which 
did not help matters any. A Georgia 
delegate wanted a plank in favor of re- 
opening the slave trade " in the interests 
of Christianity." He complained that he 
had to pay from $i,ooo to $2,000 for 
" niggers raised in Virginia," when he 
could buy better ones in Africa for Si 00. 
and bring them up in the Christian faith. 
This, and more to the same effect, made 
the Northern men more determined than 
ever to hold out. Later, at Baltimore, 
Butler, who had all along voted for Jeflfcr- 
son Davis as the nominee, bolted the 

The Booklovers Magazine 


convention because of this slave-trade 
speech, as he alleged. It took several 
weeks for its enormity to filter through 
his brain. 

Oi^ Saturday the convention reconvened 
with the matter unsettled. Mr. liigler, 
of Pennsylvania, as a last hope secured 
the recommittal of both platforms to the 
committee, but these were reported back 
in the afternoon with only verbal changes. 

All day Sunday there were further efforts 
at a compromise, which were earnest on 
both sides. Many of the delegates attended 
church, where fervent prayers were offered 
for success. St. Michael's Church was 
open every day of the session, and the 
religious atmosphere was greater than at 
any convention in our history. Monday 
brought no light on the situation. The 
fervent prayers to heaven and the per- 
fervid appeals to man had not moved the 
delegates, who stood by their convictions. 
The Douglas platform was adopted. 

Then followed a scene whose only par- 
allel since was that at St. Louis in 1896, 
when the silver men seceded after the 

adoption of the gold-standard platform. 
The Southern radicals — who called them- 
selves conservatives — had fought to the 
last, and true to their convictions deter- 
mined to leave the convention. With 
few individual exceptions, the delegations 
from Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, 
South Carolina, Florida, Texas, and Arkan- 
sas, withdrew, and later that of Georgia. 
There were tears in the eyes of many 
delegates, both of those who withdrew 
and of those who remained, as the delega- 
tions one after another filed out, severing 
political associations which had lasted for 
years. With great impressiveness Glenn 
of Mississippi announced : 

"Go your way and we go ours; but the 
South leaves not like Hagar, driven into 
the wilderness, friendless and alone; for in 
sixty days you will find a united South, 
standing shoulder to shoulder" — a predic- 
tion that was tolerably correct. 

The balloting began after deciding that 
a two-thirds vote of the whole convention 
was essential to a nomination. The first 
showed as follows : 


i//fff/rfi, , 




//. f/j'li liHI 




,/,/,./ /,.i: 

r. 1 „„ 


1 .'<,i.^,/,. 

«;/,. *,., 


... >.. 

/.//, . . ,,,,./ 


From a <ampaign Uthoiraph published by Currier and Ives in i860 



The Bookloveks Magazine 

Douglas - - • 

• - 145/2 

Hunter - - • 

■ - 42 

Guthrie - - ■ 

• - zs'A 

Scattering - • 

- 30 

It was evidently Douglas against the 
field. For two days there was no particular 
change except that Douglas finally rose to 
152^'-', which was a majority of the con- 
vention, though not the necessary two- 
thirds. On the third of May, the tenth 
day of the convention, it became apparent 
that nothing could be accomplished until 
further thought on the subject, and the 
convention adjourned to meet in Balti- 
more June 18, while the seceders had 
organized and decided to meet in Rich- 
mond a little earlier. 

Before the convention reassembled 
Abraham Lincoln, Douglas' rival, was 
nominated at Chicago. The Democratic 
battle was continued on the floor of the 
Senate. Douglas and Davis, representing 
the two wings, fought it out with hammer 
blows. Davis finally admitted that the 
platform was of less importance than the 
man, but refused to let the convention 
fight it out on that line. " We shall be 
cutting each other's throats soon," wrote 
Alexander H. Stephens, with prophetic 
insight. He and Davis alone seemed to 
believe in a bloody war. 

When the convention met at Baltimore 
there was another split. Douglas was 
nominated by the Northern wing and 
Breckinridge by both parties of the seced- 
ers, and the result was — President Lincoln 
and civil war. 

There never was a time — from April, 
i860, to election day — when Jefiferson 
Davis, by his personal influence, could not 
have secured the nomination of a Demo- 
crat who would have been elected. He 
refused to take that step. 


From the fateful convention of i860 
there was comparative quiet for just twenty 
years. Seymour was nominated by the 
Democrats in 1868, against his wishes, and 
was defeated. Blaine lost the nomination 

in 1876 by a hair, and the woes of the 
Republicans followed fast. The extra- 
constitutional means of settling the dispute 
by an electoral commission was unpopular 
with all Democrats, and there were many 
Republicans who thought the decision 
unjust. Hayes' attitude as president had 
alienated from him the support of the old 
stalwarts who were prominent in the Grant 
regime ; and it was evident that the party 
must make a hard struggle for success. 

The situation inside the Republican 
party, in the early weeks of 1880, was not 
unlike that of the Democracy twenty years 
previous. This time it was not the "pecu- 
liar institution" of a section that was at 
stake, but that of patronage and party con- 
trol. Roscoe Conkling, John A. Logan, 
and Don Cameron, all senators, and the 
latter chairman of the Republican national 
committee, felt that the time had come 
for them to make a fight for party control. 
In casting around for a candidate they of 
course passed by Blaine, to whom Conk- 
ling had never spoken since the "turkey- 
gobbler" speech of the former in the 
House some years before. Nor would 
they consider Sherman, the astute secre- 
tary of the treasury who had electrified 
the world by his financial achievements in 
restormg specie payments without a tremor 
of excitement in the commercial world. 
Senator Edmunds, wJio was a candidate of 
an intellectual coterie small in numbers 
and without much influence in politics, 
was ignored. The man of the hour, to 
their notion, was Grant. 

To ignore all precedent, by choosing a 
candidate for a third term, was a bold 
stroke. It was of less compliment to 
their knowledge of human nature and prac- 
tical politics than the occasion warranted. 
Grant in this day stands resplendent ; 
every hour raises hun in the estimation of 
the world as a soldier anil a statesman. 
But his frailties were more apparent in 1880 
than now. His greatest weakness was 
that he was a poor judge of men and that 
he stuck to his friends through good and 
evil report. In giving Butler so large a 
control of the patronage of Massachusetts 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 


he dug his pohtical grave. If Butler was a 
scalawag, he was a man of intense mental 
activity. He claimed openly that he had 
some secret hold on Grant which the latter 
could not ignore. It is certain that most 
of the scandals of his second administration 
were due to his appointments of Butler 
men, and Massachusetts resented it. That 
State loved Grant, but at the time did not 
trust him. 

Grant had just completed that spectac- 
ular tour of the world in which he had 
met the greatest men of the time and had 
learned much. There is no doubt that 
his mental equipment in i88o was far 
superior to that at any previous time, but, 
the third-term idea was still odious to 
many of the people, and that feeling was 
artfully increased by all those political leaders 
who were seeking the presidency either 
for themselves or for their friends. The 
truth seems to be that Grant did not want 
a third term, and that he did not believe 
his nomination judicious from a party point 
of view ; but he was " in the hands of his 
friends," who insisted that he alone could 
save the country from Democratic rule, 
and he gave at least a negative consent to 
his candidacy. 



When the convention met, June 2, at 
Chicago, the Grant men were exuberant. 
They had on the face of the returns the 
largest number of delegates. In a number 
of States they had secured the passage in 
convention of the " unit rule," requiring 
the entire vote of the State, including that 
of delegates elected by districts, to be 
cast according to the wishes of the majority. 
That issue had been raised at Cincinnati 
four years before, but the decision was not 
binding on the present convention nor the 
precedent clearly established. If the unit 
rule was maintained and Grant delegations 
seated where there were contests, there 
were almost four hundred votes for Grant 
— enough to nominate him. Cameron's 
plan was to select a temporary chairman who 
would be pliable, and then make him 
permanent officer and carry the program 
through to enforce the unit rule. He was 
balked at the last moment by threats which 
he could not ignore. With ill grace he 
agreed to Senator Hoar of Massachusetts 
as ternporary chairman, and the situation 
became so strained that he was finally 
made the permanent presiding officer. In 
this the Grant forces lost much. Massa- 
chusetts would have been for Grant except 

from Pud. 1880 

Courifsy of Keppltr and Sthwarixmann 


The Booklovers Magazine 


for the Butler regime, but now all 
but four delegates were bitterly 
opposed. "Anything to beat 
Grant " was their slogan. 

The personnel of the 
convention was one of 
the most imposing ever 
gathered for such a pur- 
pose. Largest in num- 
bers and influence was 
that from New York, 
headed by Rosco€ 
C o n k 1 i n g , Governor 
Cornell, and Chester A. 
Arthur. William H . 
Robertson headed the 
seventeen " half-breeds" 
who would not bow the 
knee to Conkling. It was 
Robertson's nomination to be 
collector of the port of New 
York which enraged Conkling 
and Piatt, and led to their 
resignation from the Senate, 
the assassination of Garfield, and finally 
the accession of Arthur to the Presidency. 

Next in numbers came Pennsylvania, 
headed by Don Cameron, M. S. Quay, 
James McManes, J. Hay Brown, and 
Christopher L. Magee. But with all the 
mastery of these in politics, and in spite 
of State convention resolutions, there were 
twenty-five who refused to vote for Grant 
— a worse defection than in New York. 

Illinois had contesting delegations, but 
the leaders were John A. Logan — old 
" Black Jack," who was making the fight 
of his life for his former chief ; the brilliant 
lawyer, Emory A. Storrs, Green B. Raum, 
and David T. Littler. 

The Ohio delegation was particularly 
distinguished, as it was headed by former 
Governor William Dennison, James A. 
Garfield, Charles Foster, and Benjamin 
Butterworth. Indiana's men were for 
Blaine, and were marshalled by Benjamin 
Harrison — himself to be nominated eight 
years later, to choose Blaine for his 
premier, and to fight with him for the 
nomination in 1892. 

Among the stalwarts, men from the 


in 1880 
Photograph by 'Bell 

South were conspicuous: Stephen 
W. Dorsey and Powell Clayton 
of Arkansas — veterans of 
campaigns past and to 
come — and William H. 
C. Warmoth, of Louis- 
iana. James S. Clarkson 
and D. B. Henderson 
(recently speaker of 
the House of Repre- 
sentatives) of Iowa ; 
Samuel Fessenden, of 
Connecticut ; Preston 
B. Plumb, of Kansas ; 
W. O. Bradley, of Ken- 
tucky; Eugene Hale and 
William P. Frye, with the 
veteran Joe Manley, from 
Maine ; James A. Gary, of 
Maryland; President Julius H. 
Seelye, from Massachusetts, 
accompanied by Henry Cabot 
Lodge and George S. Boutwell 
(who had been Grant's sec- 
retary of the treasury) ; Blanche K. 
Bruce, the negro senator from Mississippi; 
Leonidas Houk, of Tennessee; William 
E. Chandler, of New Hampshire; and 
Philetus Sawyer, of Wisconsin — these are 
but a few of the more important names on 
the list. 

The Blaine men were in many respects 
at an advantage. Of all the anti-Grant 
men he was the favorite, and according to 
Senator Sherman, might have been nomi- 
nated but for the unfortunate division in 
the party in Ohio, which, instead of being 
unanimous for Sherman, gave a consider- 
able minority of votes for Blaine. The 
bitterness was such that the time never 
came when the Sherman men could go to 
Blaine, though otherwise this would have 
been the case. So says Sherman, who is 
the first authority on the subject. It is 
not much credit to human nature that 
personal animosities should have such far- 
reaching results. 

The Grant men played a losing game 
from the start. They were arrogant, 
domineering, and implacable. They staked 
their all on the reports of the committees 


The Booklovers Magazine 

on credentials and rules. All sorts 
of angry debates took place in 
the hall as the convention 
labored from Wednesday to 
Saturday night with the 
preliminaries. The 
Grant men lost at every 
turn. Nearly every con- 
test was decided against 
them, and the rules as 
finally adopted allowed 
any delegate to vote as 
he chose. This reduced 
the Grant ranks from 
about four hundred to 
a little over three hun- 
dred. On top of this 
Conkling must needs make 
a bad situation worse by offer- 
ing an iron-clad resolution com 
mitting every delegate to support 
the nominees. Three West Vir- 
ginia delegates, who objected 
to this dragooning process, voted 
in the negative, and then Conkling offered 
a resolution expelling them from the con- 
vention. Immediately the convention was 
aflame once more and an angry debate 
followed, after which Conkling withdrew 
his motion, but not until more bad blood 
was aroused. 

By Saturday night, the convention was 
seething with excitement. The delegates 
were tired out, the galleries were filled 
with eager spectators daily. Few of the 
leaders had slept. All were alert, suspic- 
ious, aggressive. It had been a bad week. 
The Grant men had lost steadily, but were 
still confident. Their following was the 
largest ; their chances of accretion best — 
so they thought. Before a crowded, anx- 
ious, and expectant audience came the 
spectacular bursts of oratory in presenting 
the candidates. The flood-gates of elo- 
quence were opened. Joy, of Michigan, 
spoke for the "Plumed Knight" whom 
Colonel Ingersoll had named at Cincinnati ; 
Garfield placeil Sherman before the con- 
vention in an adroit speech well calculated 
to take off the fine edge of enthusiasm 
which followed Conkling's presentation of 

Photograph by Bell 

Grant in a speech that has never 
been equalled on such an occa- 
sion. Even in spite of the 
opposition. Grant's was the 
name to conjure with. 
Starting with the famous 
quatrain about Grant 
hailing from Appomat- 
tox and its apple tree, 
Conkling had carried 
the audience resist- 
lessly along with his 
eloquence as he por- 
trayed the services of 
his candidate in peace 
and war. If eloquence 
could have secured the 
nomination Grant would 
have been victor. 
The opponents of Grant, how- 
ever, were not carried away 
with enthusiasm. Their oppo- 
sition was two-fold. They did 
not think Grant was the man 
at the time, and that even if elected he 
would place his administration in the 
hands of the Conkling faction of stalwarts, 
while the man who did not crook the 
pregnant hinges of the knee to the 
oligarchy would have no standing in the 
party and little chance at the public crib. 

The first ballot taken on Monday was a 
disappointment to all candidates. None 
got as many votes as expected. It stood : 

Grant 304 

Blaine 284 

Sherman . . . . 93 

Edmunds - - - - 34 

Washburn - - - - 30 

Windom . - . - 10 

Garfield . . . . i 

Succeeding ballots that day and up to 
Tuesday afternoon brought few changes. 
The fight was on to the bitter end. For 
several ballots one vote had been cast for 
Garfield, and when on the thirty-fourth 
others joined, he rose in his seat and 
protested against this. He announced 
that no man had a right to vote for any- 
one nominated without his consent, that 

Hor„r-, If^rrkl,, 1880 Courtesy of Harptr and Brother, 




The Booklovers Magazine 

he had never j^iven his con 
and then the gavel of 
chairman fell. Senator Ho; 
had nervously listened to 
Garfield for fear that he 
would say something to 
take him out of the list 
of possibles. He was 
one of those who be- 
lieved that Garfield 
was a possibility ; and 
just at the moment 
that Garfield seemed 
certain to say that he 
was there for Sherman 
and would stick to him, 
Hoar cut him off on th 
ground that his matter was 
not privileged, and the roll-c; 
proceeded. The incident had 
not passed unnoticed by the 
convention. Spectators saw 
more clearly than the interested 
leaders that there must needs 
be a compromise, and Garfield had been 
under the lime-light from the first. 
Wherever he went he was received with 
applause, and it is asserted that his inevit- 
able arrival late at the convention was 
intended to get the demonstration which 
never failed. Sherman considered Foster 
a traitor, but that is not necessarily true. 
Under the circumstances Garfield had a 
right to any popularity he could get ; for 
probably no one knew better than Garfield 
that he was supporting an impossible 

The monotonous ballots had gone on 
without particular change. The Old 
Guard stood its ground 306 strong, with 
few variations. There were frequent con- 
ferences. It is charged that several dele- 
gations had told either the Hlaine men or 
the Sherman men that they were on 
call whenever the situation should reach 
the right psychological moment. Could 
Blaine have broken through the Sherman 
ranks he might have won, but the Sherman 
men were waiting for Blaine to come to 
them, and the leadi-rs of b6th factions were 
waiting to sec which way the cat was going 


in 1881 

Photograph by Bell 

), SO as to take advantage 

he situation. Personal 

considerations were quite as 

prominent as those of the 

public good. 

Every night there had 
been meetings of the 
followers of the leaders, 
and all sorts of plans 
were proposed ; but 
without avail. The 
Grant men maintained 
their front. They had 
the best organization, 
and they believed in the 
end the convention must 
come to them. Not so 
Grant himself. He early 
saw that his nomination was 
impossible, and wanted his name 
withdrawn. He sent a letter 
by John Russell Young to his 
leaders, the exact wording of 
which is not known. It has been 
asserted and denied that it was a peremptory 
demand for his withdrawal, a request that 
his name be withdrawn, or a willingness to 
have it so. In truth Grant found that he had 
been deceived by his friends, and that there 
was no popular demand for him. But 
they would not allow him to retreat with 
honor. They kept the banner waving to 
the last, and went to defeat like the other 
Old Guard at Waterloo. 

After all the fruitless ballotings it was 
seen by the saner delegates that something 
must be done to break the deadlock. The 
delegates were tired, the people at large 
were restive over the situation, which 
boded ill for party success. The strain 
must be ended. Every possible candidate 
was considered, but at no time was there 
a consensus of opinion. The party leaders 
were not willing to start a movement unless 
it promised success, and unless they were 
certain of getting into good strategic posi- 
tion with the new candidate. At one time 
Edmunds seemed to have many outside 
supporters, but they had no votes, Wash- 
burn loomed up, only to fade. Then the 
Gordian knot was cut by Wisconsin. That 

The Booklovers Magazine 


delegation was small but compact. It is 
asserted that to Congressman Pound of 
that State is due the influence which at 
the end of the thirty-fourth ballot, without 
any previous intention on the part of that 
delegation, swung the solid vote of the 
State to Garfield. 

A mighty shout arose. There were 
cries and counter-cries of all factions, in a 
vain eflfort to stop the stampede. The 
Grant men were pale with anger, and- 
rushed back and forth in an agony of 
fruitless endeavor. The clock had struck ; 
the man had come. Garfield was nomi- 
nated on the thirty-sixth ballot, but the 
Grant men stood firm to the last, and the 
survivors may be seen today proudly wear- 
ing the medals struck to commemorate 
their loyalty. 

Conkling moved to make the nomination 
unanimous, and the agony was over. In 
the reaction from the terrible suspense of 
the preceding week the convention let 
itself loose in a pandemonium of applause. 
Garfield's selection was popular. He was 
in the correct position to heal all wounds 

except those in the ranks of the Old 
Guard, which were not to be assuaged by 
sentiment but by official plasters. 

Never has the unexpected result of a 
convention been so joyously received by 
the lay members of a party. Nothing but 
the fact that Garfield had served in the 
army, in Congress, at the bar and in the 
pulpit, in the schoolroom and in the forum, 
nothing but his extraordinary combination 
of qualities which appeal to the imagina- 
tion and sentiment of the people, made 
his campaign a victory. The campaign 
following the factional fight in the con- 
vention was won by a narrow margin, 
to be succeeded by President Garfield's 
tragic death. Arthur, whom Conkling 
had nominated for second place, became 
president, only to quarrel with his chief, 
and to see his party go down in defeat for 
the first time in a generation. 



From Puck. 1880 Courtesy of Keppler and Schwarixmann 








Round about 
eifr Jamestown 

5}r-)Vi-'^- - Cliftonjo!?nson 


The entire region in Jamestown's vicin- 
ity is rich in historic charm. Here occurred 
many stirring events in colonial days ; 
here, less than twenty miles apait, were 
three of the most notable towns of the 
period, Jamestown, Williamsburg, and 
Yorktown, and the district was a scene of 
conflict in two great wars. When I 
debated what place I should see first I 
decided it should be Yorktown ; and one 
October morning I walked thither from 
the nearest railway station, a distance 
of six miles. The way led across a 
monotonous, half-wooded country that 
did not presage much attraction for my 
journey's goal ; but I was very happily 

Yorktown is a village to fall in love with 
— such a quaint, gentle old place, such ven- 
erable houses and great gnarled trees, and 
such a picturesque upheaval of grass-grown 
earthworks girding it about. Moreover it 
stands on a bluff gashed with frequent 
narrow ravines leading down to the shores 
of a broad inlet of the sea, and the views 
from these wild little glens, whether you 
look of? across the water or back toward 
the village, are unfailingly piquant and 

Before the Revolution Yorktown was 
the chief port of Virginia, and' several ves- 
sels loaded with tobacco were every year 
dispatched thence across the Atlantic. But 
for more than a century the population has 
been gradually dwindling, until now it 

aggregates only two hundred and thirty- 
eight, and three-fourths of this small 
number are negroes. 

On the farther edge of the village, 
fenced in by rude wooden palings, stands 
an imposing national monument commem- 
orating the surrender of Cornwallis. The 
monument was finished comparatively 
recently, for while its erection was in 
pursuance of a resolution of Congress 
adopted October 29, 1 781, ten days after 
the surrender, actual work was not begun 
on it until about one hundred years later. 
Not far away is a fragment of an embank- 
ment belonging to the time of the siege, 
and this is all that is left of the British 
fortifications. The other earthworks 
upheaving in great grassy ridges around the 
village belong to the Civil War. They 
are very peaceful now, and are much over- 
grown with a low, aromatic herb from 
which one's footfalls set free pungent and 
agreeable odors. 

The siege of Yorktown was not of long 
duration. The British were cooped up 
there scarcely two months, and the bonds 
were not at all tightly drawn until toward 
the end. The bombardment lasted only 
eight days, but it was at close quarters and 
wrought great havoc. All the town 
buildings were more or less damaged, and 
the house which was at first Cornwallis's 
headquarters was battered to pieces. He 
removed to the handsome brick Nelson 
mansion, still standing and still bearing the 
marks of the besiegers' cannon balls. 
Tradition relates that as the perils of the 


The Booklovers Magazine 

bombardment increased, this house too 
was abandoned, and the commander sought 
a cave under the bluff. He had the cave 
lined with green baize, conveyed to it a 
few necessities, and there he lived and held 
his councils with the other army officers. 
The surrender took place among the 
fields about a mile distant, and the locality 
is marked by a curious symbolic shaft 
erected by a patriotic private citizen. The 
shaft is of English brick, united with Ger- 
man mortar, the former signifying the 
British and the latter the Hessian com- 
ponents of the captured army ; and the 
whole is made emblematic of war by a coat 
of red paint. It stands beside a little byway 
a few rods off the main road. Close by is 
a national cemetery, where sleep some 
hundreds of Union soldiers who died on the 
battlefields or in the camps of the vicinity. 
They have a park-like inclosure to them- 


selves, with a massive wall of brick about 
it. Within the inclosure the turf is like a 
lawn, the trees are kept trimmed, and the 
care is constant. The man in charge took 
great pride in the appearance of the ceme- 
tery, and he waxed very wroth in telling 
me of the depredations of certain beetles 
that clipped off twigs of his trees. " Dose 
bugs dey haf pinchers and saws on deir 
heads," he explained, " and dey cut off 
limbs big as my finger, and I haf all der 
time every day to keep pickin' dose 
branches up." 

We were standing just inside the gate 
near a pump that adjoined the caretaker's 
tidy stone cottage. The man stepped to 
the pump and filled a cup with water, but 
paused before conveying it to his mouth 
to say: "Some beoples not like to drink 
dis water. Dey fill der cup and dey 
look mit deir eyes at der graves so many 
here, and dey drow der water 
away. But dose old fellows 
not drouble der water none. 
Dey been bury too long, and 
dis water not come from der 
ground nohow. It come out 
of a cistern dat fill from der 
roof. Der taste would be 
better from der ground. One 
man near here has an artesian 
well — ah ! dot is der water ! It 
is more light as cork, and you 
can drink of it two or dree 
gallons at der same time and 
it will not hurt you." 

That night I stayed at the 
ancient town of Williamsburg, 
a most interesting place built 
around a large grassy square. 
Here and there a sedate colon- 
ial home has survived ; and best 
of all is the old brick parish 
church, with the graves of the 
early inhabitants clustering 
under the fine trees in the 
churchyard. At the head of 
the Duke of Gloucester Street 
— the town's broad, chief thor- 
oughfare — is the historic Will- 
iam and Mary College, and at 

.-- - 




The Booklovers Magazine 


the Other end of the street formerly stood 
the House of Burgesses. 

Jamestown is eight miles distant. I was 
advised that the only way to get there was 
to "hire a rig," but I preferred to walk. 
It proved to be a very toilsome expedition. 
The weather of the previous evening had 
been threatening, and from my hotel piazza 
I had watched a thunderstorm that 
wandered along the horizon and flashed 
and rumbled and lifted a gloomy cloud- 
mass well up toward the zenith. Later 
the wind rose and thrashed the trees, and 
rain fell in frequent showers all night. In 
the morning the sun gradually vanquished 
the clouds, but the mud and shallow pools 
of the roadway made walking far from 
easy. However, there were long sandy 
stretches which were fairly firm. I 
followed the "main traveled road"; for 
the route to Jamestown is kept well worn 

by the constant coming and 
going of visitors, and the other 
roads were mere trails by com- 
parison. It was a lonely road, 
wending much of the way 
through dense woods, and it 
was full of wild and primitive 
suggestions. Now and then 
there were houses and poor 
little clearings. In several 
instances the houses were 

Jamestown is on an island 
of about sixteen hundred 
acres, three-fourths of which 
are arable. It is separated 
from the mainland by a creek, 
a few rods across, that is 
spanned by a rude bridge. 
Along the shores of the creek 
are broad salt marshes over- 
grown with rank grasses and 
reeds, and beyond the marshes 
are pleasant open fields varie- 
gated with oak and pine wood- 
land. In a little grove at the 
west of the island is what is 
left of old Jamestown — a few 
graves and a ruined church 
tower close by the shores of 
the broad river James. Not far from the 
church are the heavy earthworks of a fort. 
The fort, however, was not erected by the 
pioneers, but was one of the outlying 
defenses of Richmond thrown up during 
the Civil War. 

The founders of Jamestown arrived in 
their three ships on the Virginia shores in 
the month of May, after a rough voyage 
that began December 19, 1606; and their 
sentiments, as expressed by Captain John 
Smith, were that "heaven and earth never 
agreed better to frame a place for man's 
habitation." There were only a hundred 
and forty-four persons in the entire com- 
pany, thirty-nine of whom were the sailors 
who manned the vessels. About half the 
others were classed as "gentlemen," and 
the rest as tradesmen and mechanics. It 
is supposed that they landed at the lower 
end of Jamestown island — or peninsula, as 


BUILT IN 1720 


The Booklovers Magazine 


it was then — and there they built the first 
houses ; but within a few years they moved 
to where the ruins of the town now 
are. The land as they found it was no 
doubt grown up to a great pine forest. 
Just why they chose to settle here is uncer- 
tain, unless because the narrow peninsula 
aflforded some protection from savage foes. 
As a matter of fact the new-comers were 
less intent on making homes in the wil- 
derness than they were on finding gold. 
Presently their food gave out, the Indians 
harassed them, and they fell ill with fever. 
In four months over fifty of them had 
died; and but for Captain John Smith 
they would have all gone back to England. 
Captain Smith found his fellows a very 
troublesome responsibility. Few of them 
were industrious or energetic. Some were 
pardoned criminals. But Smith was a leader 
with ability to rule. He punished idleness 
with starvation. To cure profane swear- 
ing he had a daily account kept of a man's 
oaths; and at night, as a penalty for each 
oath, he poured a can of cold water down 
the offender's sleeve. Captain Smith wrote 
to the corporation in England which had 
fitted out the colony: "When you send 
again, I entreat you rather send thirty 
carpenters, husbandmen, gardeners, fisher- 

men, blacksmiths, and diggers-up of the 
roots, well furnished, than a thousand such 
as we have." 

With regard to their early hardships 
Smith says: "We did hang an awning 
(which is an old sail) to three or four 
trees, to shadow us from the sun ; our 
walls were rails of wood ; our seats un- 
hewed trees, till we cut planks; our pulpit 
a bar of wood nailed to two neighboring 
trees. In foul weather we shifted into an 
old rotten tent, for we had few better. 
This was our church till we built a homely 
thing like a barn set upon crochets, covered 
with rafts, sedge, and earth, as were also 
the walls. The best of our houses were 
of like curiosity, but, for the most part, far 
worse workmanship, that could neither 
well defend wind nor rain." 

In 1638 a much more substantial church 
was built than the makeshift that had pre- 
ceded it. The walls were made of brick 
brought across the Atlantic, and the tower 
of the church has endured even to the 
present. The edifice itself continued in 
use until Williamsburg, on account of its 
superior healthfulness, supplanted James- 
town as the capital of the colony in 1699. 
The removal of the capital was a fatal 
blow to Jamestown, and the place was 



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soon almost abandoned. It never had been 
more than a village. We know that in 
1625 there were twenty-two dwellings, a 
church, a merchant's store, three ware- 
houses, and a guardhouse; and outside the 
town two blockhouses, one to guard the 
isthtnus, the other to prevent the Indians 
from swimming across the back-water that 
separated the peninsula from the mainland. 
The population was then two hundred and 
twenty-one, and in the palmiest days of 
the village the inhabitants did not exceed 
three hundred. 

The brick church tower is the only 
surviving remnant of the old settlement 
that is at all conspicuous. It is eighteen 
feet square, and its massive walls are a yard 
thick. The church was not only a house 
of worship but a fortress of defense, and 
the upper portion of the tower is pierced 
with loopholes — narrow slits without, but 
widening inward so that guns could be fired 
from them with the least possible exposure 
of the gunners. A rough, barn-like struc- 
ture has been built to cover and protect 
the foundations of the body of the church, 
and a few relics are displayed inside. The 
floor of the church contains a number of 
graves ; and other graves gather arouml 
outside, with massive tombstones a good 
deal broken by stress of time and weather, 
and by the vandal sightseers. But the 
sightseers will do their ghoulish work no 
more, for the place is now in the hands of 
an historical association, and has been sur- 
rounded by a high, wire-meshed fence, 
suggesting at first glance that here is some 
country henyard. A custodian is at hand 
to admit visitors, answer questions, and 
volunteer such information and opinions as 
occur to him. 

The custodian pointed out various quaint 
epitaphs on the old stones, and calletl 
especial attention to this one : 

Here lyttli 


A Cjreat Sinner 

Waitinjj for a Joyful Resurrection. 

" That's the first sinner's grave I ever see," 
sail! my guide; "I've read a good many 
gravestones, I tell you, but I've never found 

any but saints buried in other graves." 
When I finished looking at the church 
and its surroundings the guide took me 
out of the grove to a grassy level, which 
he affirmed was the "Courting Green" 
or " Kissing Meadow," where was sold, in 
the year 1619, the shipload of " respectable 
maidens for wives to the planters." He 
also pointed out the spot where were sold 
that same year twenty " negars" brought 
thither by a Dutch man-of-war — and this 
was the beginning of negro slavery in the 
United States. 

The river opposite Jamestown is three 
miles wide, and from upstream its course is 
a straight sweep of seven miles. Thus the 
current and the waves have easy opportu- 
nity to eat into the alluvial banks of the 
island, and have already swallowed up a 
considerable portion of the village site. 
The water covers many remnants of the 
ancient home foundations and walls, and 
when the current runs clear the stone and 
brick can be seen on the river bottom. 
The danger to old Jamestown — this cradle 
of our nation — has long been realized, and 
in 1901 the government completed a 
masonry breakwater that, so far as it goes, 
affords a lasting protection from the 
stealthy erosion of the current and from 
the fierce waves that the winter storm- 
winds drive against the shores. But there 
is need of as much more work to assure 
the safety of the spot, and to preserve the 
historic church tower and the graves 
around it to the multitude who in years to 
come will wish to visit this first permanent 
English settlement in America. 

Very unusual interest attaches to the 
spot just now because preparations have 
begun for celebrating its bicentennial ; and 
there seems no doubt that the event will 
be made a most elaborate and important 
historical anniversary. 



Pauline Marlowe, walking in the garden at sunset, wondered 
if any woman's happiness had ever been as complete as hers. Her 
girlhood, soon to end, seemed to her to lead from an untroubled 
child-life to the man she loved with the directness of this garden- 
path, flower-bordered. No bewilderments, no uncertainties were 
in her perspective of the past. She had held her soul high like a 
torch, beaconing Robert to her. 

In her pride of joy she believed that she and Robert Caldwell 
were not as other lovers. From the first they had been calmly 
confident of each other. They had never even quarreled. The 
inevitable outcome of such heavenly logic as their betrothal must be 
a marriage distinguished from other marriages by a closer union, a 
distincter ideal of life. 

On this evening, awaiting him, she gave herself up to her 
memories as only they do whose joy or whose misery is superlative. 
Under the warm orange glow of the June sunset the old house, 
her birthplace, seemed the visible symbol of gracious years. As a 
child she had played with Robert in its garden. Its broad rooms 
had sheltered a girlhood of which she was always a little proud, 
because the neighborly verdict that she had borne her responsi- 
bilities well was true. Her mother dying when she was very young, 
a protective devotion to her father seemed to her in retrospect the 
keynote of her existence. She had denied herself the usual enthu- 
siasms of youth, because enthusiasm puts out the eyes of duty. 
But, for her many willing sacrifices she was early and richly 
rewarded. Robert loved her. 



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Even the echoes of the Civil War just ended had not greatly 
disturbed her peace. Robert had passed through its bloody baptism 
as one bearing a charmed life, emerging purified of any less noble 
passion than the love of Pauline Marlowe. She dwelt lovingly 
on this martial service, as supplying the dramatic element in a pure, 
untroubled idyl. 

Their happiness promised to stretch into the years. Even the 
usual severing of ties was not to result from their marriage, for she 
and Robert were to live in the Marlowe homestead. His own 
home was but a stone's throw away, also an ancestral house, having 
sheltered five generations of Robert Caldwells. Her essentially 
Puritan pride rejoiced that her lover was born of that kind of aris- 
tocracy which combines plain living with high thinking. Her 
children would have the dower of stainless ideals. 

The rose-light deepened in the west. Warm scents of the 
garden mingled with the cooler air wandering from the distant 
purple hills. The voices of boys at play in the broad, elm-shaded 
street came to her pleasantly. At the opened window of his library 
her father sat, holding a book to the last glow. 

She went up the garden-path, her full white skirts catching in the 
straggling branches of the rose-bushes. With her blonde hair drawn 
down over her little ears, her sloping shoulders, her graceful, guding 
walk, she seemed the very embodiment of those miniatures of the 
period which present women as the flower-like work of the gods on 
porcelain. The perfume of the sheltered existence was about her 
as she went up the garden-path, bending once in glad caprice to 
kiss a rose. Under the library window she paused. 

"Father, you should not read so late! " 

Her voice was prettily authoritative, but for an instant the 
shadow of a cloud passed over his face. This young daughter, as 
soft-appearing as a fawn, sometimes made of her devotion a tyranny. 
She ordered his house as her mother — sweet soul — had failed to do. 
Hut such a comfortable failure ! Over the long years his love groped 
for her quiet, twilight face, the home of a spirit so different from 
her daughter's bright assurance. He had never been at peace with 
death since death. hid her. 

Pauline was a faultless housekeeper, but by her decree — passed 
gaily as all her decrees were, yet nevertheless iron-clad — he must only 
smoke in his library; he must not eat hot bread for supper ; he must 
not offer wine at his dinner parties. His daughter had mapped out 
their domestic life with exceeding justice and righteousness, but his 
masculine foot sometimes stumbled on these prim division lines. 

He looked apologetically down at her, and shut his book. 


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"You expect Robert ?" 

" Yes, he should be here now. We are going to set the day." 

" Wise children ! Too long an engagement is not good. You 
ought to have married six months ago, when Robert took his position 
in the bank." 

Robert wished it. I was not ready." 

" You are ready now ? " 

She smiled. 

" 1 should be; I have been sewing for two years." 

He smiled in his turn. 

"These feminine mysteries are beyond me. I suppose all this 
sewing was necessary to your happiness ? " 

The rose-leaf color in her cheeks deepened. 

" A young lady must marry properly," she answered with her 
curious dignity over trifles, which sometimes enamelled the porcelain 
with ice. 

" Well, well," her father good-naturedly said, "I suppose all 
young girls like pretty things — did the gate click ? " 

• She looked around, instantly alert, expectant ; took a few steps 
forward, then turned back, drooping a little. 

" It's only Charles Hendricks ; I suppose he wants to see yon 
again about that stupid law-suit. I wonder what keeps Robert." 

" He'll be along presently," her father said in a soothing tone. 
"There's Hendricks at the bell." 

He rose and left the room. She walked slowly away, back to 
the flower-garden, to the western light now silvered with a young 
moon, to her orderly dreams of a marriage which no rough wind of 
destiny seemed likely to disturb. She had prepared her soul for 
Robert with the same care that she had prepared her wardrobe. 

Suddenly a light shone out over the garden. Her father had 
lit a lamp, but he and Hendricks were still standing, facing each 
other across the table. Even from a distance she could see a certain 
excitement in the visitor's manner. Her father's back was to the 
window, but his motionless attitude betrayed tension. She won- 
dered what they could be talking about. The old law-suit, worn 
thread-bare, could not thus disturb them. 

Her father began to pace the floor. As she watched him a 
vague fear chilled her. From childhood she had always dreaded the 
unusual. This fear took solid shape when suddenly he turned and 
drew down the shade. 

She stood motionless, her eyes dark with her gazing, so absorbed 
in some not altogether comfortable thought that she did not hear a 
step on the path. 



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Her startled movement, her quick, anxious facing of him was 
due less to surprise than to the curious quality of pain in her lover's 
voice, like the expression of her own newborn fear. In an instant 
she divined that something was wrong. Though Robert was so 
near that she could touch his hand, he was looking at her across a 
gulf. The blitheness of strong young manhood, usually surround- 
ing him with a grace almost feminine, had vanished. His face in 
the moonlight was haggard. 

" Robert, what has happened ? " 

He was silent. His appearance mocked the peace of the June 
night, was an offense to the stillness of her heart, guarding thoughts 
like flowers prepared for him. 

" Robert, speak to me ! " 

Then he spoke, the words half choked in his throat, as if 
under a suppressed sob. 

" I've dreadful news. I'd give my life to spare you ; but we'll 
have to suf?er together as we've rejoiced together." 

She had grown very white; was holding out her hands, the 
palms towards him, as if to push away some monstrous fact. The 
gesture opened wide the wound that seemed to be sapping his 
life. He took both her hands, held them against his breast, 
looked down appealingly into her eyes, the gray lines about his 
mouth twitching with the nervousness of misery. Used as she was 
to a certain nonchalant manly beauty in his bearing, as of one 
happy in mind and strong in body, he seemed at the moment 
almost ugly to her. She drew her hands away and put them 
before her face. 

" Don't ! " he said hoarsely. " You wouldn't if you knew." 

" Tell me, then ! " she cried, and her voice was shrill. " Tell 
me your news ! I can bear it. But you frighten me with your 
looks. You don't seem like Robert " 

"I will tell you, poor little Pauline, my poor darling! You 
are so brave and sweet, and you love me. Say that you do before 
I " Again something like a sob choked back his words. 

" Of course I love you ! " she said, with fierce impatience. 

Don't keep me in suspense ! " 

" The First National Bank has closed its doors 


began, with a certain labored preciseness. She interrupted him. 

" What has that to do ?" 

"Wait!" he said harshly. "There has been — there has 
been wrong-dealing, perhaps embezzlement. My father " 

He coulil not go on. She came a step nearer, her head 


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forward, peering into his face, as one might watch a tragedy 
through a crack in the door. 

" Your father what ?" she said, in a cold, measured voice. 

" Don't speak that way ! Don't look that way ! " he 

entreated. "Because he is cashier they suspect " he broke 

ofif. " It may be that he became involved through — oh, I don't 
know — but I, his son, won't judge him ; you, his daughter-to-be, 
won't judge him till all is known." He paused; then, as he 
brought his news to the climax, he seemed to bleed before her eyes, 
as if the words tore him. " There is — a warrant out for his arrest." 

She stared at him. The door was wide open now upon the 
tragedy, but she did not enter. 

They faced each other, his paroxysm of pain relaxing into a 
piteous appeal. As plainly as if he spoke his eyes, where youth 
lay dead, cried out to her: 

" Come to his defense with me. You love me ! He is my father !" 

Her lips were set in a thin blue line. Her neck, stretched 
towards him, looked drawn like a plucked bird's. 

"Where is he?" she asked sharply. 

"Father?" he faltered. 

"Yes! where is he? You say there is a warrant out for him 
— where is he ? " 
He s gone. 

The anguish in his voice made only an oblique impression upon 
her. Her mind was scenting crime. 

" Gone where ? " 

"God help us! We don't know." 

The lines of her face relaxed. She stood passive as one who 
has accepted a fact. 

"Then it is true," she said slowly. 

" Hush ! " he cried. " Be merciful till you know." 

From the harshness of his encounter with dark and giant facts 
came the almost childlike appeal to her, whom he had pictured 
during these last blind hours as his only light and guide out of the 
morass life had suddenly become. With her beside him he could 
face Dellford, the town where all his young days he had gone, 
proudly, now grown into a world filled with hostile, suspicious, or 
derisive faces. Over the ruin of a name he and Pauline must 
raise the white banner of their youth and love, their hope and honor. 
Love would redeem disgrace, the toil of restitution restore confi- 
dence. In that hour he stood before shadowy tribunals, the ghosts 
of his rigid but unstained ancestors; the tender, appealing ghosts of 
the unborn. 


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"Pauline! say something to nie. Let me know you live." 

"What can I say ! " she cried shrilly. " We are disgraced ! " 

" But you stand by me in this hour ? Say that you do ! " 

She drew herself up, drew back from him as if already linked 
with remote destinies in which he had no part. A horrible sense 
of being left alone in the dark, like the old child-terror after an 
evening of strange, ghostly tales, suffocated him, blotted out the 
sweet, indifferent garden scene, the low-swinging bow of the moon, 
the unfamiliar face of his beloved. 

"But you stand with me in this hour.-'" he repeated, the 
futility of his appeal making his words seem parrot-like. 

"I hope I will do what is right, Robert. Until I know the 
facts I cannot say what I would do." 

" Do ! " he cried, " there's nothing to do but to keep on loving 
me, trusting me. You wouldn't fail me now, Sweet! " 

She turned wearily away, drooping like an overburdened flower. 
A great pity for her filled him, this white rose of a girl caught sud- 
denly, it seemed to him, on a black current. Loyalty to her sense 
of outrage struggled with loyalty to a father in whose ultimate honor 
he passionately believed, dark as were the charges against him. 

" But you love me yet, Pauline ! " 

" Don't talk of love now. We're in a storm," she said. 

"It has beaten on my head for hours. I could bear it better 
if you would give me your hand." 

She turned to him. 

"I can't feel. Don't ask me to." 

Her small hands were rigidly clasped, her lips still compressed 
in the thin blue line. She had the appearance of a married woman 
weary of an unprofitable husband. At last she turned and went 
slowly up the walk, in her nervousness snapping of? roses, throwing 
them down, treading on them. Robert followed timidly. 

At the steps of the porch he paused. 

"May I come in, Pauline?" 
I would rather you wouldn't. I want to see father alone." 

A great anger suddenly surged in him, the bitter anger of 
wounded love. He caught her roughly by the wrists. 

" And I want to see your father, too ! He'll be more merciful 
than you. You are cruel — cruel ! I could hate you if I did not 
love you so ! What do you know of life ? What do you know of 
a man's temptations, you pretty sheltered rose? What do you know 
of anything outside this garden? I thought you great-hearted, a 
true woman who'd face death with me — yes, worse than death. 
But you must know the facts — the facts," he repeated, mocking 


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her refined, " white " voice ; then he paused, dazed by his own out- 
burst. "Forgive me! — I'm not myself. Pauline, there's no fact 
but love." 

He led the way up the steps, master for the time being by 
very force of his suffering. She followed, cowed. 

Into the library direct he went. John Marlowe was still pacing 
the floor. His visitor had departed. 

At sight of the young man's face his own, hard and sharp with 
strained thinking, melted into pity. He came forward, both hands 

"Robert, dear boy — " he began brokenly. Under this kind- 
ness Robert Caldwell struggled to keep his self-control. When he 
was master of his voice he said : 

"You know, then." 

"I've heard a report — I believe nothing through mere report — 
of an old neighbor, an old friend — " his voice trembled. 

Robert turned away his head. 

*' I thank you, sir." 

The silence which followed was broken only by the slow and 
solemn ticking of the clock in the hall. Unseen assistants at this 
drama thronged the place, casting over its familiar features that 
veil of the mysterious which at the approach of the great forces of 
h'fe can transform the homeliest setting into a vast echoing chamber 
of destiny. 

Robert spoke first. 

"If it be true — if my father cannot — clear himself; then I am 
in honor bound to give you back the hand of your daughter." 

John Marlowe expected to hear Pauline's eager protest, but 
silence followed Robert's words. Then the father turned to his 
daughter. She was standing by the fire-place, rigid, erect, her eyes 
strangely eclipsed, impenetrable, all softness gone from her outline, 
all response from the stif? lines of her mouth. 

" Pauline," her father appealingly said, " speak to Robert. 
He is yours." 

*' Father, you do not understand." 

He glanced toward the young man, whose unexpectant face 
seemed to hold already a hopeless knowledge. 

" You are not giving him up ? " he said sharply. 

" Father you do not understand," she repeated in a monotonous 

" Understand what ? " 

"O, don't urge her ! " 

" Understand what ? " 

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From her clouded eyes fire leaped. 

"Have I not the right to be true to myself? " she cried. 

" No one questions it," her father said drily; " I only wish to 
know what your intentions are regarding Robert." 

She stood at bay. "I can say nothing now. This has come 
suddenly upon me. I am overwhelmed. How can I say what I 
will do with our future, till I know — what has happened?" 

Livid lines as if from the cut of a whip crossed the pallor of 
Robert's face. He set his teeth to keep back bitter words. 

" You are waiting then," her father said, " to know the truth 
of this report." 

" I wish to be just," she answered. 

Her father spoke sternly. 

" There is of course a generation of misunderstanding between 
us, but if you have the hard and sure ideals of youth, 1 have the 
experience of middle-age. My observations of the workings of 
justice, both in the court-room and in daily life, lead me to believe 
that it is the servant of mercy." 

His old-fashioned sincerity of speech seemed to relieve the ten- 
sion of the scene. 

Robert spoke wearily. 

" Don't be hard with her. She has had a great shock. In the 
morning all things may appear in a different light." 

Pauline met her father's look of appeal with silence. 

" I will say good-night," Robert added. 

"You will come to see me in the morning, my boy? " 

"Without fail." 

They shook hands, then Robert crossed the room to Pauline, 
but before he could take her hand Hendricks appeared in the door- 
way, a human embodiment of head-lines. 

" I've just heard," he began, then stopped short at sight of 
Robert, who wheeled about sharply. 

" What have you heard ? We're facing truth here. We want 
the truth." 

" Well, it's pretty stifi news to tell a son of his father," 
Hendricks blundered. 

" Cjood God ! man, out with it ! " 

" Robert Caldwell's been arrested in New York ; has made a 

Marlowe put a hand on Hendricks' shoulder, and pushed him 
almost roughly into the hall, closing the door on himself and his 
visitor. Pauline and Robert were left alone. 

She had covered her eves with lu-r hands. As she stood there 

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trembling she seemed again all woman, her delicate frame made 
to shelter tender thoughts, not to case the steel blade of an 
inflexible will. 

He yearned to her, forgetting her words, forgetting everything 
but their love. He whispered her name and, still keeping a hand 
over her eyes as one ashamed, she came to him, and hiding her face 
on his breast, wept bitterly. 

His tenderness, his forgiveness broke into words. 

"Dear, you did not mean it? Say you did not mean it. 
You'll stand by me ? " 

But the sword of her will was already dividing them. The 
relief of her tears seemed to give her courage. She raised her 
head from his breast. 

" I can't marry you, Robert, if that is what you mean. It is 
too much to ask. If you were generous, you would not ask it ! " 


Mrs. Arthur Parkes, once Pauline Marlowe, was returning 
to Dellford with her son Arthur, a young man of twenty-four, just 
graduated by some jugglery, inexplicable to his friends, from a 
leading Eastern university. 

As he sat staring out of the window of the drawing-room car, 
his handsome, indolent face drawn into fixed lines of discontent, 
there were signs about him of acquaintance with a world which 
only in rare instances refines, and in the majority of cases vulgarizes 
— a world best visited by men with strong chins. Arthur's chin 
was still suggestive of an irresponsible childhood. 

His mother, sitting opposite to him, saw in him, not without 
a repugnant chill of memory, the blonde, misleading features of his 
dead father, whose fair, weak beauty had caught her on the rebound 
from tragic issues, in that flight to Europe which seemed necessary 
after the fall of an honored house. She had seen him first in a 
church in Florence, copying an altar-piece, his head, with its 
abundant blonde hair, not unsuggestive of holy associations. 
Later he explained poetically his lily-city to her — his little talks on 
art soothing her wounded spirit like the twilights of those strange, 
echoing churches where they spent many hours together. Though 
he was an American, he represented everything that was not 
Dellford, and she married him. 

She had reason later to wish for an element of Dellford's hard 
granite of principle in a nature wholly intenerated, it seemed, 
with the love of beauty divorced from morality. Her father leaving 
her without, as she thought, the full quota of paternal regret, went 




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back to Dellford, and she and her husband remained in Florence. 
At first she exulted in the unreality of her life within the cold, 
stately palazzo, under the high frescoed ceilings where pale saints 
were fading into dreary glory, as if a mere girl had become a 
princess. Later, when she was well acquainted with the pettiness 
of her Arthur's nature, she hated Florence and all its works, its 
beauty seeming to her so mingled with associations of her husband 
that the two became one deception. 

When her son was born she tried to forgive the father every- 
thing, though her mental attitudes did not seem to interest him. 
He went away to Paris, presumably to dispose of some pictures 
there ; but she was keen enough to perceive that he was restless, 
and because his absence was a relief to her she encouraged him to 
prolong it. He returned to her, at last, shattered by obscure 
calamities, and not long after died. 

With her little boy she returned to America ; but wrote her 
father that she could not come back to Dellford. The thought of 
meeting Robert Caldwell blanched her like the judgment. 

During those years her father had not spared her news of her 
discarded lover, the record beginning with the announcement of 
the disgraced Robert Caldwell's death soon after he had served his 
term in prison. But while the defaulter was expiating in formal 
legal fashion an ofifense cut short from the events which had led to 
it — embalmed and labeled as a warning — his son was gallantly 
storming life for the most it would surrender. And the most had 
been so far a fortune, turned over as soon as made to the directors 
of the bank in Dellford. The particulars of this long fight for 
honorable restitution — a warfare, indeed, just ended — were commu- 
nicated to Pauline by her father in dry, unadorned phrases, like a 
monk's chronicle of chivalrous deeds. Nevertheless, she felt the 
repressed admiration, the passionate defence back of them. Her 
father had never forgiven her treatment of Robert — her shrill, 
impulsive judgment, at twenty, of life and honor; but, for that 
matter, she had never forgiven herself. For years she had realized 
that, little as she deserved remembrance, the news which would 
hurt her most would be the news of his marriage. 

He had been evidently too busy to marry, too absorbed heart 
and soul in the achievement of a great ambition. His devotion to 
his disgraced father appeared to be the only sentiment of his life — 
filial love, yes, by a strange paradox, filial reverence for the shattered 
creature, too tired and weak to seem a criminal. 

Her own father's failing health had brought her back at last to 
Dellford, the period of her residence there coinciding with her son's 

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years at college. Separation from Arthur was painful, not only 
because he was her idol, but because the very intensity of her love 
was founded on mistrust of his shifty, lovable, elusive temperament. 
Long before he was out of childhood she knew that her passionate 
hope, of his justifying her marriage by a normal moral growth, was 
not to be realized. He had inherited his father's pleasure-loving 
disposition, his father's good looks and easy good manners, that 
counted for so little after all. By a trick of heredity he represented 
only a blank space in the Marlowe line, so little of her own 
ancestry did she see in him. For morals he seemed to substitute 
the imperious present need of his sensations. 

In his vacations he had made the acquaintance of his grand- 
father, the only person of whom he had ever stood in awe. John 
Marlowe might have kept him in the straight and narrow path, the 
mother thought, but the old lawyer had died at the beginning of 
Arthur's senior year. 

They were going back now to the homestead for a summer of 
readjustment, and deliberation as to Arthur's future career. She 
longed for this return to Dellford, yet dreaded it. 

Since the breaking of her engagement she had never seen 
Robert Caldwell. While she was nursing her father he was absent 
in the West. But this year he had come back, finally, to his old 
home to take the position, won by both wealth and honor, of 
president of the First National Bank. 

Visions of her youth blotted out the flying landscape. At last, 
in very weariness, she closed her eyes. Slow tears forced themselves 
through her lashes and rolled down her cheeks, still with their 
touch of rose color. Despite the fact that her once bright hair was 
streaked with gray, there was a faded, futile prettiness about her, 
linking her at forty-six to the girl she had been at twenty. 

Her son saw the tears, frowned ; then said with a kind of 
bantering affection — for in his absorbed, selfish way he was very 
fond of his mother : 

" What's the matter, old lady ? Headache ? " 

She opened her eyes, with a rewarding smile for his awkward 
solicitude, and said : "Just tired, I guess, Arthur." 

"It's been a beastly long journey. But then " he added, 

" Dellford's a good place to rest in, dull as death. I hope the 
Walker girls will be there this summer." 

The lines in her forehead, always at contradiction with the 
faded pink in her cheeks, deepened into a look of trouble, the kind 
of trouble which is not an incident in life but a part of life itself. 
Arthur's frivolity seemed congenital. 

The Booki. overs Magazine 


"But you are not going to Dellford for a good time, Arthur. 
Your grandfather's partners are only liolding the position in their 
law-of?ice open until the middle of July." 

He frowned in his turn. The weak lines of his mouth drooped 
to his smooth, childish chin. 

"I'm not so sure I want to study law. It's drier than dust." 

"Weil, what do you want to do?" 

He had never answered a direct question directly in his life. 
Such questions seemed to hurt him like too much light in his eyes. 
He blinked now, shrugging his shoulders. 

"The life you say my father led would have about suited me." 

" But you've never shown any artistic talent." 

"Oh, I didn't just mean that side of it. Painting'd be a bore 
like anything else, if a man were tied up to it." 

He rose, yawning. 

"I'm going into the smoker." 

His mother's face stiffened, as it always did when she assumed 
her helpless authority. 

"You remember what Dr. Werner said about your cigarette 

"He wrote my epitaph, I remember," he good naturedly com- 
mented as he lounged ofif. "So long, mother, don't worry about 
your good-for-nothing." 

He flashed her a smile which made her forget for an instant 
the care he was to her. 


They had been at Dellford a year — to Pauline a year of 
painful groping back to a great lost opportunity of girlhood and of 
anxiety for Arthur, who was wasting his time. The sere old men, 
of stern Puritan stock, who had been her father's law partners, had 
come to her with the word, delivered flatly and without ornament, 
that her son neglected both his studies and his office duties. 
They wished to assume no further responsibility in the matter of 
his legal education. 

After their visit she went in tears to Arthur. This testimony 
only confirmed her restless, unhappy divinations. 

He smiled, as one relieved infinitely, when she told him of the 
firm's decision in regard to him. 

" The old codgers are right. But you would insist on my 
studying law just because grandfather was a lawyer. I could have 
told you from the beginning that it wouldn't work." 

He smiled hopefully upon her, as one backed to an enormous 

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advantage over his elders by the deficiencies of his temperament. 
His mother gazed at him with the helpless look of the inadequate 
maternal, a type which has always been in the world, and much 
condemned by those who refuse to see that an element of the 
inadequacy may be the hopeless nature of the offspring; mothers, 
with all their wealth of affection, being unable to play the part of 
Providence. The factor of the other parent may confuse even the 
directest intentions of love. In Pauline's boy was Pauline's husband. 

" You say you're not fitted for the law, Arthur. What are 
you fitted for ? You're twenty-five years old. You ought to have 
a gleam by this time of your work in life." 

He laughed. 
Not a glimmer, Mummie. I'd let you have it straight if I 
did." Then he added, with that curious frankness which fitted 
oddly to the other traits of his character: " At least, not a gleam 
in the respectable direction — the honored citizen of Dellford, road, 
the Robert Caldwell type." 

His mother turned to him, pitiful entreaty in the face, over 
which a faint blush spread. 

Don't use his name that way. He is a noble, honorable 
gentleman. He has won back everything." 

" And much too evidently proud of it," her son interrupted. 
' You've been here a year, and he has never called on you. Yet 
I understand you are old friends ! " 

The flush, the painful purplish flush of middle age, deepened 
in his mother's cheeks. 

" We were engaged to be married once," she said, revealing, 
on she knew not what impulse, the fact to which for many years 
her whole life had been set in a never-ending series of groping, 
imperfect adjustments. The wrong which she had done to 
Robert was the hour, so it seemed to her, at which her moral 
growth had stopped. Her marriage, her maternity, her widowhood 
— what had they been but the experiences of a lamed nature still 
only bethrothcd to life, and awaiting an indefinite recovery to lend 
itself to life's full purpose. 

Her son drew a long breath of astonishment. 

"You never told me that!" he said, with a touch of 

" There was no reason why I should tell you. It was a dead 

Arthur had one of his rare moments of thoughtfulness. 

"Were you engaged when that crash came?" he slowly 
asked, a definite light of interest in his pale blue eyes. 



The Booki. overs Magazine 

She hesitated. That Arthur, the unstable, purposeless son, 
might perhaps sit in judgment on her was a strange reversion of 
their mutual positions. Yet her soul, aching through long years 
for confession and absolution, was compelled to speak. 

" Yes, we were engaged at the time. It was within three 
weeks of our marriage." 

Again Arthur became mysterious in another unaccustomed 
silence. Thoughts — unfamiliar visitants — were difficult for him to 
deal with. 

" Did he break the engagement ? " 


" Then you did ? " In his voice was a queer note of surprise. 

The futility of confession swept over her. Only one person 
could absolve her. 

" Yes, I broke it." 

It was slowly dawning upon the young man that for the first 
time in his inadequate, drifting life he might have the moral advan- 
tage of his mother. For years she had represented to him an ethical 
superiority over himself, for which he could find no more positive 
ground than her feminine misunderstanding of masculine preroga- 
tives. As far as he thought of it at all her virtues were founded on 
fear — fear of the world, fear of nature, fear of life. Dimly he felt that 
she had no real grasp on existence, or if she had it did not make her 
happy. On the other hand, horses, pretty girls, cigarettes, and hazy 
purposes did make him happy. He stood on sure ground there. 

The look in her face was confirming this realization of his that 
he might now have the moral advantage of her, cleaning his own 
slate with her confession. In her eyes, on her lips, it was written : 
"I broke my engagement because I couldn't share disgrace." 

He could have the word from her for the asking, but some dim 
chivalry in him sealed his lips. 

The confession, now his as surely as if she had spoken, filled 
him with a strange wonder. Sharing disgrace with anyone didn't 
seem hard to Arthur, but his moral standards had been always vague. 

Relief — positive, grateful — was in her eyes as it dawned upon 
her that he would make no comment on her last words. But the 
sharp facing of an intolerable memory left her pale, depleted. 
Arthur did not look at her for a few moments as he rose and 
slouched up and down the room. Through his silence they were 
nearer together than they had ever been ; but sentiment, part of the 
general forfeit of the mother on the night she abdicated a throne, 
fitted awkwardly the son. He caught up his hat at last to relieve 
the tension. 



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Well, I'm off for the evening." 

"Where are you going, Arthur?" 

The old question, uttered so often that it had become purely 
mechanical, incapable of producing an answer, restored to the young 
man the mother he knew best, a lonely figure in a desert of distrust. 

"Oh, down the street." 

The inevitable answer brought back the old, shifty, elusive 
Arthur, with his limp notions of pleasure. Resignedly she wound 
up her part of the formula : " Don't stay too late." 

He wound up his : " Don't sit up for me." 

When he was gone the old house, filled with the shadows of 
the summer evening, seemed ghostly to her, haunted with the chill 
of the dead years. Putting a shawl over her sloping shoulders — 
shoulders which had gone out with crinoline — she went into the 
garden. The Julr evening was still rosy in the west. An imperial 
twilight, more gold than gray, held the gold bow of the moon. 
Warm, heavy garden scents mingled with the fresher air from the 
hills. So far as the natural setting could take her back, she might 
be Pauline Marlowe waiting in the rose-walk for her lover, but 
between the girl and the woman were the moral blunders of 
meaningless years. 

She longed for Robert's forgiveness, yet doubted if she could 
ever approach near enough to him to ask it. She was not within 
hailing distance of that noble and steadfast spirit; gray with the 
dust of the highway she slunk far behind. 

In the earlier, more emotional, and therefore easier, stages of 
her remorse she had felt that she could not die without his forgive- 
ness, could not rest in her grave unpardoned. Later, emotion had 
become a principle of despair. In conviction she joined those who 
died unpardoned by their fellows, though, perchance, received of 
God. She preferred the human forgiveness as nearer, more tangi- 
ble, but did not hope for it. That she loved Robert Caldwell, had 
always loved him, only darkened her sin. 

Tired of thoughts of herself she turned to Arthur, wondering 
if all mothers were as helpless or as clumsy in the molding of a 
child's character — character inevitably to become destiny, as the 
vine brings forth grapes. Step by step she went back over her 
maternal life, searching for the moment of the lost opportunity, 
which seized might have converted Arthur into the son of her 
dreams; but she could find no such moment. The child's life had 
been intangible as her own. Mother and son were merged in the 
commonplace, she suspended between the querulous and the 


The BooKi.ovERS Magazine 

The gate clicked. She never heard the sound without 
memories of that fateful evening. Turning, she saw that a man 
was entering the garden, was coming up the walk towards her. 
The dimness hid his face, but the outlines of his tall, spare 
figure were at once strange and dreadfully familiar. Though the 
years had refined, strengthened, distinguished the figure with that 
kind of distinction which makes personality, like immortality, a 
greatness to be achieved, the continuity of character had not 
been broken. 

Above the loud, drowning beating of her heart she asked her- 
self in what words she should greet him, coming out of her grave to 
meet life; but he took the initiative, speaking her name quietly as 
one long accustomed to speak it. 

"Good evening, Pauline. I saw you walking in the garden, 
and thought it a good opportunity tg speak with you concerning a 
matter which has been. in my mind for some weeks." 

His voice was placid, almost paternal ; but his deep-set eyes, 
under the worn but finely-modeled temples, gazed intently at her, 
noting hungrily, it seemed, every line of her face now raised to his 
with the look of the suppliant. It did not seem strange to her that 
he should begin to speak as if they had parted yesterday. This 
middle-aged gentleman was the Robert she had known. Only she, 
herself, had lost her identity. She feared to speak, lest her first 
words should betray her bankruptcy. 

He waited for her an instant, then went on, a great gentleness 
in his voice. 

It is in regard to your son, Arthur." Then, as he saw 
sudden pallor of apprehension in her face he hastened to add : 

" I believe that I can without much difficulty get him a 
position in the bank. I have learned — Dellford's a small place — 
that he has little love for the law, and — forgive me — I knew that 
as a mother, you must be anxious about his future ; that you 
would perhaps permit an old friend to put a chance in the young 
man's way." 

Tears filled her eyes. 

" O, you are good, Robert! " she faltered, "good as always." 

" No, I ain only interested." 

He walked by her side in silence for some moments, his head 
slightly drooped. Her glances at him revealed to her a man tem- 
pered and finely wrought by the long years of struggle following the 
hour when he took up the glove thrown down to him by life. In 
her humility she thought that had he married her in her girlhood the 
terrible faults of her nature might have cramped his moral growth. 


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The paradox under her reasoning escaped her. What she was sure 
of was the fact that his quiet, present-hour manner made speech 
concerning their past impossible. 

She broke the silence. 

"A mother cannot be too grateful for such interest; but, 
Robert, I feel that I owe it to you to tell you that Arthur, while a 
good boy in the main, seems to lack application. He is fond of 
pleasure, and he seems to have only the dimmest idea of what he 
wishes to make of himself." 

A faint smile lit up Caldwell's face. 

" Not extraordinary faults at his age, Pauline " — he lingered 
over the name a little. " In any case we can give him the chance at 
the bank — a clerical position. He may settle into it more easily than 
you think." 

"I hope so," she sighed. "We can do everything but live 
their lives for them ; but because we can't do that we feel helpless." 

He nodded. 

" You mustn't be too anxious about the results of this. I'll do 
everything m my power to be — not the deus ex machina, but what 
the older man should be to the younger." 

" Oh, you are good ! " 

" He is your son." 

It was the first sign he gave of striking the chord of their 
mutual memories. She wanted to cry out : " Why should that be a 
reason for kindness ? " But the words died on her lips. 

Instead, she said : 

" Shall I send Arthur to you tomorrow ? " 
Yes, at the noon-hour. I am home then." 

She knew that his youngest sister kept his house for him, an 
unmarried woman who had been a very little girl at the time of the 
crash. She spoke of her now, timidly, tentatively, as if venturing 
on forbidden ground. 

" I will bring her to see you some day, if I may," he said. 

" If you may ! O, Robert ! " 

She was trembling with ill-suppressed emotion. To cover it 
up she began to speak of some town affair of passing interest. 
He answered in monosyllables, and at last held out his hand 

Good-night. Send Arthur over. I'll bring Laetitia to call 
soon.' ' 

"I can't thank you enough, Robert." 
Don't thank me," he said almost roughly; then he turned 
and left her. 


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The year which followed was the happiest she had known 
since her girlhood — because on certain rare occasions Robert came 
to see her, and because, as far as she could judge, Arthur was 
performing his duties not badly. 

The young man, indiscriminately social, liked to be in a place 
where he could see people coming and going. He liked the short 
hours at the bank. He liked best the vision of his own well- 
groomed person, fitting in appropriately, as it seemed to him, with 
the fine, polished order of the bank furniture. His physical 
awkwardness only came out when he attempted sentiments 
beyond him. 

Meanwhile Pauline's relation to Robert Caldwell had become 
one of a conscious learner to an unconscious teacher. Eagerly, 
greedily, she took from him, through her absorption in all that he 
said and did, the spiritual truths of which his matured character 
was explicit. Sometimes her wistful, humble look troubled him, 
knowing, as he did, how sharp yet was the cry of his heart to her. 
Pauline humble was in no category of his memory of her. She 
had been so proud — daintily, then tragically proud — drawing white 
skirts about her, and leaving him where he stood on mire. Her 
decision, though it had overthrown him at the moment, had in the 
end made keen his ardor of restitution to the point of ecstatic 
sacrifice. The news of her marriage had brought him fresh 
suffering, and for years he endured his miserable accusations of 
her, all the more miserable because he still loved her. Then all 
resentment faded ; but he mourned for her as they mourn whose 
beloved have died young. 

For months after her return he dared not see her, turned 
coward by memory, and softened irrevocably by the knowledge that 
her marriage had been unhappy, that her son was disappointing her. 
He read the son's present character with clear eyes ; but he had 
lived too much himself to pronounce final judgment on anyone, old 
or young. Arthur should have his chance. 

During this year he had watched the young man with a more 
than paternal concern, the fruit of a desire to shield Pauline. 
Her weakness dominated him, as in past days her proud young 
strength was wont to do. Feeble or strong, worthy of his love or 
unworthy, he loved her. 

Arthur could, in the homely phrase, " bear watching," the 
young man's nature perpetually shifting to pleasure as the needle 
trembles to the pole. Dellford, set generations ago to the minor 

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key of Puritanism, offered little excitement of the forbidden order. 
A race-track some twenty miles away was Arthur's outlet for 
his inherent restlessness of spirit ; but his fondness for horses 
might even make of the races an innocent pleasure. So Robert 
reassured Pauline, always straining her eyes after her roaming son 
in the manner of the caged maternal. 

Two years did little to convince her that Arthur was settled in 
his position. For a dull life, he often told his mother, he was never 
made. The race-track, he discovered, was on the way to New 
York, and in the city he spent every available bank holiday. He 
was dressing far too well, spending far too much money, Pauline 
thought, for the salary he received ; but back of her clear vision 
was a certain fear of him, of what he would do should she question 
him or chide him too far. This fear had been born of his baby 
tantrums. The power of negation was strong in him. 

But after a time she perceived a change in him, prolonged 
enough to be more than a passing mood. He seemed to her to be 
losing his bright assurance, becoming at the same time more 
thoughtful or, rather, more preoccupied. She wondered if this 
seriousness were the beginning of a radical change in his character. 

She was thinking of him, planning for him as usual one 
evening, when he came downstairs from his room dressed in 
immaculate summer costume. His white clothes heightening his 
fair boyish beauty, he looked to her, as he stood there in the 
twilight, singularly untouched, almost justifying the involuntary 
thrill of pride which went through her. An expression in his 
face — the seriousness new to her — vivified this novel impression. 
It was as if the long-desired Arthur shone out for an instant, giving 
her new hope. And to increase the wonder, he lingered as if 
wishing to talk to her a little, finally seating himself not ungrace- 
fully on the porch steps at her feet. 

She was afraid to speak lest she should break the spell. They 
had never in all their lives conversed leisurely. Her snatches of 
talk with her son had always given her the sensation of being out 
of breath. 

He looked up at her now, a certain shyness in his blue eyes. 
Mother, what do you think of Anita Livingstone?" 

She did not answer his question for a moment. She dropped 
her knitting in her endeavor to fix her mind wholly upon the gypsy- 
like girl, with dark, decided beauty, evoked by the name he had 
uttered. The Livingstones were an old Dellford family, but Anita's 
mother had been Spanish. The girl herself had never seemed quite 
a part of the innocuous Dellford society, being too impulsive, too sure 



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in her likes and dislikes, too emotional. Pauline had seen little of 
her, but on the rare occasions when Anita had flashed before her 
vision a thrill of foreign memories was awakened in her. The 
dark, young face strangely recalled aspects of Florence; the high 
frescoed rooms ; lofty balconies swung above narrow Streets ; 
a towered city lying enchanted under a gold moon like a 
king's platter from an Etruscan tomb; strange summer mid- 
nights when rich voices, as out of some opera, broke in upon her 
first sleep. 

"What do I think of Anita Livingstone? Why, she seems 
like a very nice girl." 

He smiled, his perceptions already sharpened by the first serious 
emotion of his life. 

"She's a good deal more than that," he said thoughtfully. 
" She makes the others seem — seem like Longfellow after you've 
been reading Calderon." 

His mother looked at him in astonishment. 

" Wherever did you hear of Calderon ? " 

He laughed, a little awkwardly. 

"We've been reading him together." 

"Isn't this recent, Arthur?" 

"The last six weeks. Up to that time I had been blind. I 
simply didn't see her." 

" Had she seen you ? " 

" She sees everybody, 
as her Spain." 

" Her Spain ! She has never been there, has she ? " 

"In spirit all her life, I should think. She adores everything 
Spanish. She wants to go back to her mother's people some day. 
She doesn't fit in Dellford," 

The mother was silent, wondering if this handsome, forcible 
girl could really care for Arthur. That he cared for her was written 
in the odd expression of his face annulling his purposeless years. 
What had Anita and Calderon said to him — this boy whose ears 
were keenest for the language of the race-course? W^as his new- 
born interest a passing emotion, or the beginning of a nobler 
continuity of life ? 

She leaned forward and put her hand timidly on his shoulder. 

" Does she care for you, Arthur? ' 

"I've never dared ask her," he hesitated. "I don't want to 
ask her till I've cleared up the past." 

The old apprehension awoke at his words. 

"Is there nuicli to clear up?" 

She knows her Dellford almost as well 

The BooKi.ovERS Magazine 


" Debts," he answered, a certain stolidity obliterating the light 
that had shone in his face. 

She grew gray at the sound of the word. 

"What debts?" 

He rose, something of the old awkwardness in his movements. 

"Oh, I can't explain. Nothing you need worry over." 

"Where are you going?" 

The formula had at last changed. He answered promptly. 

" To Anita's." 

Despite the weight which his confession of debt had put upon 
her, she had never seen him depart with less apprehension in her 
For the first time in their Dellford life she knew just where 


he was going. 


The weeks that followed, being unusually empty of concern 
for Arthur — who seemed more serious, more reasonable than she 
had ever known him — the old haunting misery of her love for Robert 
came back to her, sharpened by his very kindness, his friendship of 
service. Though they met in a kind of sunless atmosphere, it 
seemed to her sometimes as if a shaft of intense light were about to 
break through the mist of her long bewilderment, bringing her out 
into clear, sure day. But she feared that she would always have 
his kindness, never his forgiveness. 

Meanwhile Arthur was living in more seriousness of spirit than 
his role of successful wooer justified. Something appeared to have 
crushed out his old buoyancy, annulled his old carelessness. There 
were days when he looked middle-aged. Lines of worry marked 
his clear, childish brow. He had long fits of silence, was occasion- 
ally irritable ; but it seemed to the mother more the irritability of 
the overworked business man than the old boyish querulousness. 
There were signs that Arthur was growing up. 

She was sitting alone one evening when the door of the library 
opened and he entered, transfigured as at that other time with a 
light which was like a high light on his strongest features, leaving in 
shadow all signs of weakness. As he stood before her in the pause 
before speaking, he seemed almost pathetically fine and happy, as if 
in possession for an instant of what by the laws of his character he 
inevitably must surrender. 

" Mother, I've brought Anita ! She has promised to marry me." 

There, from the dark background of the hall, emerged a young 
woman, who seemed in every line of her dark, clear-cut face to pos- 
sess permanently what was only loaned to her lover for a glorified 
moment : strength, confidence, sureness of purpose. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

These qualities she embodied, but her temporary manner was 
shy, ahnost appealing, as she held out a strong, lean, brown hand to 

" Will you give Arthur to me ? " she said, and there was in her 
voice to Pauline a strange echo of her own maternal care, as if 
the roles of protector and protected were in these two to be 

Yet of the girl's love for him, unworthy as he might be of it, 
there was no doubt. Her dark olive face was all alight with 
romance, awakening in Pauline a strange, sad envy. 

She drew the girl to her and kissed her. 

"I am so glad it has come out as Arthur and I desired it." 

She took her son's hand as she spoke, and the three stood 

together a moment, feeling the inspiration of the hour in their 

quickened pulses. Then the pallor in Anita's face changed to rose. 

We think we ought to be very happy, Arthur and I ; and 

we're going to a real castle in Spain some day," she added gaily. 

Tell me of your mother. I never saw her." 

']0, may I?" 
Anita's mother was of noble birth," Arthur proudly said. 
I've heard she was very beautiful. You inherit her beauty." 

The girl blushed, unfeigned pleasure in her clear, direct look. 
I will bring a miniature of her to show you. I want Arthur 
to care for my people over seas. 1 am teaching him Spanish." 

She sat down beside Pauline, clasping the matron's pink, soft 
hand in her dark, nervous one. Arthur watching them with full 
contentment, listened to their conversation which, unconscious 
though he was of it, held its note of mutual comprehension, as if 
these two women who loved him knew that each knew his faults 
and weaknesses. The difference was in Anita's deeper confidence, 
profounder hope. Young as she was, she seemed to Pauline to 
have mastered the art of living, yet she was glad and sure like those 
who have not lived. 

In this warm atmosphere of youthful love Pauline herself 
seemed to take on a little of the sparkle of girlhood. Arthur 
thought he had never seen her so roused, so entertained. 

But in the midst of their happy talk a visitor was announced. 
Mr. Caldwell wished to speak with Mrs. Parkes. He was waiting 
in the drawing room. 

" Don't go, Anita," Pauline said, " we have so much to say." 
In her light-heartedness she spoke as a girl to a girl. 

Anita nodded brightly, and Arthur lookcti his gay thanks for an 
interruption which would give her back to him these few moments. 


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Already, as Pauline turned to close the door behind her, they were 
back in their exclusive happiness. 

She crossed the dimly-lighted hall to the drawing-room, where 
a single gas jet in the high, ponderous, old-fashioned chandelier 
made faint light through the oval ground-glass globe, revealing the 
heavy mahogany pieces of furniture whose shining surfaces were 
strangely suggestive of encoflfined things. Over the mantel Paul- 
ine's father, in a righteous stiffness never his in his kindly lifetime, 
looked down from his painted velvet armchair. Facing this portrait 
Robert Marlowe stood, with a strangely troubled look which drew 
her thoughts for an instant back to a crisis of the past. 

He did not smile as she greeted him, but he took her hand in 
a firm grasp. She read pity and concern in his eyes, and knew 
instinctively that he had come to speak of her son. 

"Is it Arthur?" she whispered in faint, frightened tones. 

He knit his brows; was silent. 

"You've come to tell me something about Arthur. O! I see 
it in your face." 

" I'd give much to spare you." 

The words echoed back to another scene. The chill of a 
horrible logic stiffened her poor plaintive features even in their ner- 
vous working. Then it had been Robert's father. Was it now 
to be her son ? 

"Don't spare me! I don't deserve to be spared. I never 
spared you." 

The cry of anguish in her voice summed up for him the secret 
misery of her years. He knew then that her deadness was the 
deadness of remorse. 

"Pauline," he said gently, "let me say first that what you 
speak of was long ago forgiven." 

She forgot Arthur, rising on that word as on wings. 

" You forgive me." 

"I forgave you, dear." 

"Would God I could forgive myself ! " 

"You will have to forgive both yourself and Arthur." 

"Arthur! Yes. What has he done? Has he, too, repaid 
your kindness in the coin of the mother's treachery?" 

"Pauline," his voice was stern, "cease from this. Not 
treachery — the boy is kindly, but he has drifted into trouble. He 
needed money for the races, I suppose, and " 

"He took it from the bank," she finished, a strange calm 
suddenly possessing her, giving her the proud look of the girl he had 
first loved. 



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" Yes, he took it from the bank." 

She drew herself up. Her weakness had fallen from her like 
an old tattered garment. Invested with a new tragic dignity she 
faced him. 

"How much did he take?" 

"About five thousand dollars in all, of which to our knowl- 
edge he has replaced about six hundred. To his mind I suppose it 
was — a loan." 

"No, he is a thief." 

"Hush! It's a hard word." 

"I will say it. Did I spare your father? I will not spare my 

" But I wish to spare the mother," he said with quiet authority. 
"And to spare you I have made your boy my debtor, and not the 
bank's — criminal. I have seen the directors. I have repaid to the 
bank the forty-five hundred. They have — we have agreed to dis- 
miss him quietly because he is your son, and John Marlowe's 

"You may spare him" — her voice was low, deep, authorita- 
tive — "but I will not. Did I spare you? Did my judgment spare 
your father? I have slunk through life. I will pay now — pay to 
the uttermost farthing." She turned towards the door. 

" Where are you going ? " 

"To Arthur." 

"Where is he?" 

"In the room across the hall with Anita Livingstone. She 
must know." 

She waited for no further word, crossing the hall with a quick, 
sure step. He followed, wondering at the sudden, sharp play of 
steel, the gleam of it flashing back over the years to the night when 
it had cut her life from his. Now the sword was turned against 
herself and her own. 

She threw open the door, stood on the threshold a pale, dis- 
senting figure in the rose-light with which the room seemed almost 
literally filled. Caldwell, with a curious neutrality in his face, was 
just behind her. 

The vivid look, transforming Arthur into a strong, new crea- 
ture — the look which throughout the evening had suggested that a 
higher curiosity concerning life than ever before had penetrated 
his vague consciousness — was instantly changed as his mother's 
eyes met his; changed, however, without loss of intensity. He 
became as grave as he had been gay. 

Anita glanced from mcfther to son with brilliant, searching 



The Booklovers Magazine 




eyes. It was she who broke the strange, echoing silence which 
Pauhne's reappearance had created. 

" You wish to speak with Arthur ? " 

" I particularly wish to speak with Arthur." 

Again the swift- look from mother to son, then to Robert 
Caldwell, the negativity of his face now broken through with 
positive reluctance, with protest. 

" Shall I go?" 

" No, remain please," Pauline's measured voice brought out. 
" What I have to say you, above all others, should hear." 

Then Arthur spoke, his voice hard and husky, but with a 
quality of firmness in it which seemed to express further, and to 
emphasize, the odd vivid look in his face. 

" I know what you are going to say. I know what 
Mr. Caldwell has told you — that I have used the bank's money." 

For an instant Pauline's face lighted, as if with gratitude 
that he had taken the words from her lips pronouncing a judgment 
over which the maternal voice might well have broken. Then the 
stern mood, born of her desire to atone to the man at her side, 
rendered her again impersonal, unwavering. 

" You have, it seems, stolen nearly five thousand dollars from 
the bank. You know the penalty of the crime ?" 

He was silent. He moved a little nearer to Anita. 

" You know the penalty of the crime ? ' ' 

"You are cruel!" Anita's bell-like voice rang out of an 
astonishment of which this news was less the cause than the 
mother's inexplicable attitude. Pauline seemed to the girl a 
show-woman exhibiting a deformity with callous indifference. 

" Arthur, is this true ?" 

The soul of the young man seemed to die before them, but 
the rigid body still retained that unaccustomed dignity which had 
seemed prophetic of an ampler life. 

He turned pleading eyes to Anita. 

" Yes, it's true, dear. I took it — before I knew you." 

It was the strongest plea, they felt instinctively, that he would 
ever make, so thoroughly identified with this young girl were all his 
newborn gropings toward better things. 

Anita knit her brows, but Pauline could see that she was 
preparing no hard judgment; rather seeking, in her clear, practical 
way, for the right road out. The mother saw this with a certain 
bitterness of resentment, as if she alone of all the world of women 
had been untrue to a lover in his hour of need. Anita was showing 
to Robert Caldwell, showing in the tremulous sweetness of her 





The Booklovers Magazine 

mouth, in her pleading eyes, in the whole Hght of prophetic atone- 
ment flooding her face, what a miserable, cowardly spirit a girl 
called Pauline Marlowe had once betrayed. 

The mother again sought to fortify herself in the midst of this 
ruin, which seemed all hers and not her son's, by magnificent 
judgment upon him. 

" Robert Caldwell wishes to shield you, to make you his 
debtor. He has paid back the money into the bank. I desire, 
above everything else in the world, Arthur, that you should suffer 
the full penalty." 

Anita looked searchingly at Pauline, then took Arthur's hand. 
The young man raised his face to Robert's, meeting his eyes squarely 
and hopefully. 

" Is this true, sir? — that you have taken on yourself my " 

" Debt," Robert added quickly. " Yes, Arthur." 

"It is " Arthur looked at his mother, " a theft — but, sir, 

it was not so in intention. I meant to pay back — but I lost race 
after race — kept taking a little more, hoping to wipe all out in one 
great stroke. I'm willing " — his grasp on Anita's hand tightened — 
"I'm willing to go to jail, to pay my penalty." 

The girl's voice rang out in sweet, importunate pleading. 

" Ah, no, Mr. Caldwell, not that ! You say you've paid in the 
money. We'll sign a note for it. We'll go somewhere — we'll go 
out West, work and toil together to pay back every penny, and 
with interest. Will we not, Arthur?" 

The old light of transfiguration shone through the gaunt lines 
of care in the young man's face. 

" Sir, I am ready to pay any penalty, but if you will let me do 
this it will seem like heaven's own mercy to me." 

"I will let you do it." 

Arthur turned to Anita. 

" And you are willing, knowing what you do, to stand by me ? " 

" I love you," she said simply. 

Anger, as inexplicable to the youthful pair as it was clear to 
Robert Caldwell, filled Pauline's face — anger that she was thus 
robbed of her atonement. 

Robert had followed her anguished moods throughout this 
interview, waiting, it seemed to him, as one might wait at the sum- 
mit of the purgatorial hill for the last purification of the upward 
laboring soul. The light of the purifying, transforming fire was in 
her face now. 

Your way is made easy," she cried, " your burdens are carried 
by others. What of the great, innocent souls who bear the sins of 


The Booklovers Magazine 




many ! You take money that is not your own, yet you suffer 
nothing ! " 

" Hut I did suffer," he said, in a low voice. 

"What did you intend to do about it?" she questioned 
harshly. " Would you have told Anita ? " 

He knit his brows. 

" I'll tell the truth. I did not intend to tell her. I have been 
negotiating with a New York broker for the loan of the sum. I 
was trying to transform a — theft into a debt." 

" You get off easily." 

"Why are you so horrible to him," Anita cried. " Can't you 
see he suffers ! " 

Her dark, intense face looked her belief in the unnaturalness 
of Pauline's maternity. Robert Caldwell raised his hand. 

"Hush, Anita! where you don't understand, don't judge." 

The ice about the mother's heart melted at the words. A 
white light crept up her face as if she stood in that dawn, under 
that sky, which is aloof from all human justification. 

"She shall understand. I will tell her," she said gently. 
"Years ago, Anita, I was engaged to Robert Caldwell; I broke the 
engagement because of his father's misfortune. I could not share 
disgrace, even vicarious disgrace. I had not your brave and true 
spirit. Can you not see now why I would not spare Arthur?" 

The girl was silent for a moment. As she gazed at Pauline 
the brightness of her eyes was dimmed. 

"Forgive me," she said. 

" It is I who need forgiveness." 

She turned wearily away, signing to the lovers to go back to 
their own world, closing the door upon them before she faced 
Robert in the dimly-lighted hall. In his eyes she read a cry to her, 
but she steeled herself against it. 

I am judged — judged by my son, by my daughter, by life 
itself; judged, yet incapable of atoning. Robert, if I could only 
atone ! " 

Pauline, do you love me ? " 

" You know I do." 

" I love you — have always loved you. Is there more to be 
said ? Let us live out our lives together ! " 

As two who might meet in the fairest country, purged from 
the dishonors of the earthly warfare, they gazed into each other's 
eyes, while the years receded and an eternal vista opened. Then 
hand in hand they crossed the hall together, going quietly into the 
path of their recovered destiny. 


Courlrsy of Irtlirt Montblf 

The Eternal Feminine 

It is no longer unfashionable for a 
woman to earn her own living. The 
columns of the press have over and over 
again contained stories of how women of 
title are carrying on businesses, usually, I 
am glad to say, with complete success. 

In France they have less nonsense than 
we have in the affairs of daily life, and 
especially where women are concerned. 
Indeed, woman holds in France a position 
which is utterly unlike her place in any 
other country in the world. That nation, 
so absurdly dubbed frivolous by those who 
do not know her, is really one of the most 
industrious nations in the world, and idle- 
ness is held to be a vice with women as 
with men. Even the tripper to Paris 
knows that in every shop the till is, and 
the account books are, in the hands of 
women ; and those who know social life 
intimately there are aware that the wife 
and mother practically rules the household. 

In America women have not the same 
recognized place as workers as they have 
in France. The typical American husband 
still feels that it is his duty to make, and 
his wife's duty to spend, the money. 
But, nevertheless, American women are, 
as a rule, very energetic. That terrible 
question of servants, which vexes the 
housekeeper in all lands, is an even more 
difficult problem in America, and this has 
had the result of making the American 
housekeeper much more self-helpful than 
the housekeeper of England. Many a time 
one is greeted in country districts by a 

housekeeper who has evidently been brush- 
ing her own floor, and who in a few 
moments is transformed into the smart 
and graceful hostees ready to receive with 
ease and dignity any visitor. A little table 
which I find in the World's Work for 
January gives me a startling idea of how 
much women have entered into the occu- 
pations of men. For instance, take two 
of these items. Under the heading 
Hunters, trappers, guides, and scouts " 
— all occupations that would appear to be 
the proper pursuit for men exclusively — 
the number of women employed is very 
large. The numbers stand: Male, io,020; 
female, 1,320. When it comes to more 
intellectual pursuits, the numbers approach 
each other still more closely, as thus : 
"Authors and scientists": Male, 3,442; 
female, 2,616.— M. A. P. 

Doing His Best 

Diana has taught the twins that thun- 
der is the voice of God. The three were 
strolling far from home one afternoon when 
the heavens began to utter their deep note 
of warning. 

" Quick, quick, children," called Diana; 
"don't you hear the thunder? It says: 
' Go home, go home ! It's going to rain !' " 
Then she took little twin sister's hand 
and scurried along, while Nathaniel brought 
up a panting rear. Again and again the 
thunder rumbled and muttered. Each 
time Nathaniel looked impatiently over 
his shoulder and stumped on a little faster. 
Finally an especially threatening roar burst 


The Booklovers Magazine 

forth from the sky. In exasperation 
Nathaniel called out : 

"I hear you, good Lord; I hear you. 
Can't you see I'm going as fast as I 
can ? You must 'member that I'm only 
four 'ears old ! "— J/. P. B. in Harper's 

The Apostle of Pessimism 

Mr. George Hcrnard Shaw is impatient 
of the low plane of the modern stage. 
He declares that " the existing popular 
drama of the day is quite out of the ques- 
tion for cultivated people who are ac- 
customed to use their brains " ; and he 
believes that no regeneration can come so 
long as the drama of the day is written 
" for the theatres instead of from its own 
inner necessity." But although he has the 
poet's Icnaclc of seeing true, his method 
is not poetic, and poetry is not commonly 
the result of his intellectual labor. He 
spends no time on faint, nervous rhythms 
and wintry images. In his plays he is 
chiefly concerned with lifting the veil 
from popular morality and holding up the 
glass to its distorted face. It cannot be 
said that he does not greatly enjoy this 
somewhat gruesome occupation. His 

work is full of the humors discovered by 
him in the pursuit of his critical duty. 
In his drama, as in that of the Japanese 
playwright, the comic runs by the side of 
the grave and sober; the spiritual and the 
ludicrous have no repulsion for each other. 
His characters are set in a sharp, strong 
noonday, dazzling to the unaccustomed 
eye. Nor is he rebellious against the 
conventional arrangements of the stage. 
"I have always cast my plays in the 
ordinary practical comedy form in use at 
all the theatres," he says, " and far from 
taking an unsympathetic view of the 
popular demand for fun, for fashionable 
dresses, for a pretty scene or two, a little 
music, and even for a great ordering of 
drinks by people with an expensive air 
from an if-possible-comic waiter, I was 
more than willing to show that the drama 
can humanize these things as easily as 
they, in undramatic hands, can dehumanize 
the drama." — Elizabeth Luther Gary in 
The Lamp. 

The Democratic Policy 

The two great parties are fundamentally 
divided as to the tariff. The Democratic 
party stands for the principle that pro- 
tectionism is a system of taxation, whereby 

Draivn by Max Beerbohm 

Tbt Sfhrrt 

Photoiraph, <op)right igoj, by Clintdinst 




The Booklovers Magazine 

many are robbed in order that a few 
may be hot-housed by legislation into 
artificial prosperity. The method whereby 
"protection" docs this is by deflecting 
capital and labor from naturally profitable 
pursuits into pursuits made by legislation 
profitable, pursuits which without legisla- 
tion would have been less profitable, or 
perhaps not profitable at all. 

The ultimate goal of Democratic striv- 
ing is " tarif? for revenue only," but in the 
striving toward this goal common sense, 
good judgment, and conservatism will 
prevail, and time will enter as a factor. 
Perhaps it might be said that an "ideal 
Democratic tarif? for revenue only " would 
consist in levying import duties upon all, 
or nearly all, imports, dividing them, how- 
ever, into three classes: first, necessaries of 
life and necessaries of industries ; secondly, 
comforts; and third, luxuries. 

The same great Democratic principle of 
equality applied to the Philippine Islands 
will give as a result of its application the 
Democratic policy there. The Philippine 
Islands ought not to be retained as a part 
of the American body politic, because, 
from the very nature of the population — 
alien and inimical — they cannot, with 
safety to our rule, be given "equal oppor- 
tunities" and subjected only to "equal 
burdens." A country which has been 
afflicted, as this has been, from the landing 
of the first slave-ship at Jamestown down to 
now, with an apparently insoluble race prob- 
lem ought never to have annexed another, 
and, havinganncxed it. ought to "un-annex ' 
it just as soon as may be practicable. 

On the other hand, if, in spite of all the 
lessons of history, they are to be retained 
anyhow, then in their trade relations with 
the people of the balance of the United 
States, and with regard to their natural 
rights, they should have "equal oppor- 
tunities and equal burdens" under the 
flag and under the Constitution. They 
should be permitted to grow rich as we 
have grown rich by sharing the magnificent 
benefits of free trade between all parts of 
the Union. 

As to the isthmian canal question, the 
Democracy wants a canal. It wanted it, 
by an overwhelming majority within its 
ranks, at Nicaragua, because of the natural 
advantages of that route regardless of the 
first cost. 

The question of first cost is a mere 
bagatelle in contrast with the attainment 
of these two great ends. 

The Democracy, however, is for a canal, 
and is willing to take a canal at Panama, 
if at all, because it cannot get the other 
and because it will do the American navy, 
American commerce, and American indus- 
try a vast deal of good even if constructed 
there. On the other hand, we are not 
responsible for what the Administration 
has already done ; we do not endorse it ; we 
do not condone it. — ^John Sharp PP''iUiams 
in Everybody' s Alagazine. 


Love, hear the burden of my prayer: 
'Twill not be always thine to woo, 

And lifeless fingers have no care 
If laid therein be rose or rue. 

Love, hear the burden of my prayer: 

Give me today to hear thee vow 
How dear my eyes, my lips, my hair, 

Nor wait for Death to teach thee how. 

Love, hear the burden of my prayer: 

Lock me today in thy embrace ! 
Too late when striving candles flare 

To rain thy kisses on my face! 

Love, hear the burden of my prayer: 
Walk with me gently down the days, 

Lest Death come on us, unaware, 
And point the parting of the ways. 
— Rose Mills Po'u.ers in Good Housekeeping. 

Sailing Made Safe and 

At last the umbrella, or cyclone sail, is 
a reality. Time and again attempts have 
been made to construct a sail of this kind, 
but not until the past summer have the 
efforts been satisfactory. The umbrella 
sail, which is an English invention, is at- 
tracting attention of yachtsmen in all parts 
of the world. With this type of sail a 
small boat, which could not safely carry to 
exceed 200 square feet of canvas with an 
ordinary rig, can carry 360 square feet 
without danger. 

In fact, the risk of being capsized is 
therefore practically removed, while the 
increased speed of the boat is nearly in 
proportion to the increase in her canvas. 
. . . The original boat put in service this 
year at Cowes, England, is only 17 feet on 
the water-line, but carries an umbrella sail 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Courtesy of Popular Mechanic) 


which measures 30 feet horizontally, and 
16 feet up and down. The sail a'sc serves 
as an immense awning. Th" American 
Shipbuilder says the chief featuvo of the 
cyclone sail, which is practically ?■. 'arjre 
umbrella, is that the wind pressure on it 
has no effect whatever to incline the boat. 
Roughly speaking, the pull of the sail is at 
right angles to its mean surface — that is to 
say, in the direction of the mast. 

In other words, it may be described as a 
kite held by a rigid string. If the mast 
were stepped quite on the lee side of the 
boat, it is evident that the sail would lift 
the lee side and so list the boat to wind- 
ward ; and if the mast were stepped on the 
weather side, lifting the weather side of 
the boat, it would necessarily list the boat 
to leeward. It follows, then, that there is 
some certain point — which happens to be 
slightly on the lee side of the centre line — 
at which, if the mast is stepped, there will 
be no tendency for the wind to careen the 
boat at all. When actually sailing in the 
boat, the only way in which one is aware 

of a pufl[ of wind is by noticing that the 
boat travels faster, and experiencing a 
slight sensation similar to that coming 
from the acceleration of the engines in a 
steamer. For sailing with the wind in 
different directions to the boat, the whole 
mast and sail are rotated by means of a 
turn-table, to which the mast is attached, 
and the mast is elevated and lowered by 
means of two tackles. There is also a 
balance-weight, which helps to elevate the 
mast and balance its dead weight. 

The Thornycrofts, the great English 
boat-builders, are experimenting in the 
expectation that the umbrella sail can be 
adapted to rovvboats, canoeSj and other 
small craft. — Popular Mechanics. 

"Business is Business" 

I have sold goods over a quarter century. 
During that time I have traveled at least 
fifteen thousand miles a year, and in one 
year it was over forty thousand miles. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

I go only to the large cities, and see only 
the large trade. There are railroads and 
large companies to -which I cannot sell 
because I will not buy the purchasing 
agents. How do I know ? By many 
little things which make me morally sure 
of it, so sure that there are large users 
whom I never call on. This has culmin- 
ated in one or two rare instances by buyers 
asking me for a commission. I have seen 
purchasing agents on salaries of $2,000 
and $3,000 grow very rich. This is all I 
can vouch for on personal knowledge, as 
I have never bribed a man to buy, and 
our company does not allow it. 

My friend Jones had an understanding 
with his house that he could draw up to 
$30,000 a year without explanation as to 
how it was spent. The head of the con- 
cern was worth millions, and, of course, 
they did a large business. The goods 
th "y dealt in do not sell to municipal 
governments or to the railroads, but to 
the large jobbing trade. 

An English Prophecy of Morgan's IVaterloo 

It has been a common remark in the 
West that the purchasing agent of a rail- 
road would become rich on a salary of 
$2,000 or $3,000. They have been known 
to build $25,000 houses out of the surplus- 
age of one year's income. The vice- 
president of a car manufacturing company 
told me a few years ago that he did the 
bulk of the selling for his company, and 
that nine-tenths of his orders were got by 
bribing the purchasing agents and occa- 
sionally the president or vice-president. 
Sealskin sacks to the wives were a not 
uncommon method. In one case it was 
a fine horse and carriage ; in another a 
yacht. The treasurer of another company 
dealing in railroad supplies told me how, 
before he went to a neighooring city, he 
invariably sent his own personal check 
(not his company's, because that would 
not look well) to the purchasing agent of 
one of the largest systems on this conti- 
nent. This man, now dead, was a fine- 
looking, white-haired Scotchman, elder in 
the Presbyterian Church, and 
universally respected. When the 
salesman got there he went through 
the railroad's supply stock, made 
up the order, and fixed the prices. 
He remarked, with a wink, that 
his company did not lose any 
money even if they had paid a 
thousand dollars before each trip. 
These checks were never acknowl- 
edged and nothing wassaid. They 
ranged from $500 to $i,ooo each 
time, and my friend shrewdly 
remarked that once or twice when 
the checks had been small the 
order had been cut short before 
finished, and the benevolent, 
white-haired old purchasing agent 
had remarked that he had to give 
so and so, mentioning a rival firm, 
a little of his business, you know. 
After these gentle hints larger 
checks were sent, and the rival 
did not get a smell of the business, 
no matter how low his prices were. 
This corruption extends down 
to the smallest details of buying 
and selling, where the buyer is not 
buying for his own use but for 
some one else. Thus the milk 
dealers in New York complain 
that it is impossible to serve the 

The Taller 

The Booklovers Magazine 


people in flats without bribing the janitor. 
If he is not bribed, something always 
happens to cause complaints. 

And it runs all the way up the gamut 
to what Judge Grosscup calls the " incor- 
porated dishonesty" of the shipbuilding 
trust, engineered by a Schwab and a 
Morgan. — The President of a Large Cor- 
poration in The World To-Day. 

For the Over=Inquisitive 

Beside a clock in a grocery appears the 
following gentle hint : 







This is not the best advice possible for 
the proprietor of a grocery. — Mahin's 

"Automatic Drawings" 

"Automatisms" have recently 
been made a frequent topic of 
investigation by psychologists; and 
although the exact reason why 
some persons have them and 
others do not remains as little 
explained as does the precise char- 
acter and content which they may 
affect in a given individual, yet we 
are now so well acquainted with 
their variety that we can class 
them under familiar types. 

The rudiment of all the motor- 
automatisms seems to be the 
tendency of our muscles to act 
out any performance of which we 
may think. They do so without 
deliberate intention, and often 
without awareness on our part — 
as where one swings a ring by a 
thread in a glass and finds that it 
strikes the number of times of 
which we think; or as when we 
play the willing game, and, laying 
our hands on the blindfolded "per- 
cipient," involuntarily guide him 
by our checking or encouraging 
pressure until he lays his hands 
upon the object which is hid. 

A certain man, C. H. P., married, fifty 
years old, made his living as a bookkeeper 
until the autumn of 1901, when he frac- 
tured his spine in an elevator accident. 
Since the accident he has been incapable 
of carrying on his former occupation. For 
several years previous to the accident auto- 
matic hand-movements, twitchings, etc., 
had occurred, but having no familiarity 
with automatic phenomena Mr. P. thought 
they were mere "nervousness," and dis- 
couraged them. He thinks the "draw- 
ing" would have come earlier had he 
understood the premonitory symptoms and 
taken a pencil into his hand. The hand- 
movements grew more marked a few 
months after the elevator accident, but 
Mr. P. can see no definite reason for 
ascribing to the accident any part in their 
production. They were converted into 
definite movements of drawing by an ex- 
hibition which he witnessed. The account 
which follows is in Mr. P.'s own words: 

Drwuin by V. James 

Th* Tatltr 

Courtety of The Popular Sdtnre Monthly 


The Booklovers Magazine 


"The style of design which my hand 
draws is strange to me. I have never 
observed anything like it anywhere. 
Neither do I know of any influence, sug- 
gestive or otherwise, that could have given 
me this power, with the exception (as I 
have stated) of having seen a man make a 
slight exhibition of automatic drawing, but 
this exhibition was long after I had noticed 
movements of my own hand. However, 
that exhibition gave me the idea of taking 
a pencil into my hand to try for results. 
One point I might state clearly. While 
drawing, my eyes are fastened intently on 
the point of the pencil in contact with the 
paper, following the course of the pencil 
as if they were fascinated by it. Of auto- 
matic writing I have done little. Occa- 
sionally the name of a near relative will 
appear, sometimes with figures attached. 
Sometimes an incoherent sentence will be 
commenced, but not finished. The name 
and figures usually appear either on a face 
or under or over it. Occasionally a word 
or line is written in (as I suppose) some 
ancient language, under or close to a draw- 
ing.. I have never been able to discover 
what language this is. Perhaps it is, like 
the drawings, imperfect." 

I saw Mr. P. make one drawing. His 
hand on that occasion moved very slowly in 
small circles, not leaving the paper till the 
drawing had, as it were, thickened itself 
up. He seemed to grow very abstracted 
before the close of the performance, but 
on testing his hand with a needle, it 
showed no anesthesia. — Professor Williavi 
James in The Popular Science Monthly. 

Song of the Box Office 

Shove 'eni in, crowil 'em in; 

Cord 'em in the aisles, 
Jam 'em in the orchestra, 

Heap 'em up in piles. 
Pack 'em in the galleries, 

Crowd 'em high and low, 
All must pay, and money makes 

Ev'ry show a " Go." 
Never mind the ordinance. 

We are up to tricks ; 
Commonly ofticials are 

Easy men to "fix." 
Fire? Maybe. Let it come. 

We are well secured ; 
Everjthing inside of the 

Theatre's insured. 
Ram 'em in, jam 'em in, 

Till the seats are sold, 

Let the rest buy standing room — 

All the house will hold. 
Leave the exit doors alone; 

Swinging them about. 
Just to see if they will work. 

Wears the hinges out. 
Suppose the lights get working hard, 

Wires will all get hot ; 
Insulating each of them 

Costs an awful lot. 
Keep the crowd all streaming in, 

Chase 'em in by guess, 
All must pay to get inside — 

That's what makes success. 
— James Montague in The Neiv York Journal. 


The Cranbray School for Boys. 

All the Distractions. 

Healthy. In seventy-five years not a 
single pupil has died from overstudy. 

Democratic. Out of thirty-seven boys 
killed at football last year, only fifteen 
were sons of fathers worth more than 
fifty millions. Other distinctions bestowed 
with equal disregard for family connections. 

Military Drill. There is nothing like 
our military drill to impart the precision 
and cruelty necessary to success in modern 
life. — Life. 

The French Industrial System 

At times the French workman exerts 
an almost superhuman amount of energy. 
But at other times he relapses into a state 
of sloth and carelessness which it is diffi- 

Cartoon by McCutcheon 

ChUago Tribune 


The Booklovers Magazine 

cult to imagine. He is very restless and 
continually changing his employment ; 
the French law as to the giving of 
characters, which is very severe on the 
employer, enables him to do this with 
ease. A character means nothing in 
France, and it is equally easy for a bad 
" hand " to obtain work as for a good 
one. Moreover, as a natural consequence 
of this continual shifting, there are usually 
plenty of vacancies ; things are kept on 
the move, so to speak ; manufacturers 
are in constant need of hands, and are 
often obliged to recruit from a body of 
men who have had no previous experience 
in their particular branch. The effect of 
this on the output of wares is disastrous. 
Goods are often delivered in a shameful 
condition, the carelessness of employees 
about to leave and the inexperience of 
new hands are evidenced by some glaring 
defect. What is true of the simple work- 
man is true also of all in the industrial 
scale. Warehousemen and packers, clerks, 
foremen, and managers are all tainted with 
unbusinesslike habits, and a purchaser's 
order has to run the gauntlet of all this 
incapacity. We do not for a moment 
suggest that the French are not indus- 
trious; that would be entirely untrue; 
but it may be safely said that in the field 
of manufacture they have but small capa- 
bilities. Agriculture in one form or another 
is their principal occupation, and a love of 
this pursuit is characteristic of the whole 
nation. Many commercial men at the 
point at which they might develop their 
businesses into great undertakings abandon 
them ; they are satisfied with a small 
fortune, and retire into the country; 
where, on some small holding, they indulge 
in the passion of their lives — the culture 
of the soil. This change of direction adds 
another impediment to the progress of 
industrial efficiency. — The JVorld's Work 
( English edition ) . 

Why the Sky is Blue 

The blue color of the sky on a clear 
day is familiar to all. And yet how many 
have considered the source of this delicate 
mantle of azure which nature spreads over 
the dome of the heavens ? Newton's 
study of the color of the sky was a part 
of the brilliant optical experiments which 

he finished about the year 1675. While 
absorbed in these labors, during the year 
1666, the young philosopher admitted a 
beam of sunlight into his chamber through 
a small aperture in the window shutter. 
On passing it through a triangular prism of 
glass he produced the famous experiment 
of colors, leading at once to the solar spec- 
trum; and when this spectrum was again 
passed through a reversed prism he pro- 
duced white light. He used soap bubbles 
as the most practical means of getting films 
of water of the requisite thinness, and 
studied the colors which they exhibit. 

It is well known that under the action 
of gravity the water composing such a thin 
shell tends to run down on all sides, so 
that the walls of the bubble grow thin at 
the top and thicken toward the bottom. 
After a time the bubble becomes so thin 
at the top that further flow of water from 
this point can hardly take place, and finally 
the bubble bursts. But before this last 
stage is reached a degree of thinness in 
the walls of the bubble is attained which 
causes it to glow with brilliant iridescent 
colors. Newton noticed that on top of 
the thin bubble illuminated by white sky 
light a black spot is formed ; with increase 
of thickness downward from this point on 
all sides, a red band next appears, then a 
blue one ; then again, red and blue, red and 
blue, and so on ; the colors showing more 
extremes of red and purple in the higher 
orders. This blue band, which first ex- 
pands outward from the black spot at the 
top, and descends slowly with the subsi- 
dence of the water, Newton called the 
"blue of the first order"; and although 
somewhat dingy, he judged it to be of the 
same tint as the blue of the sky. Accord- 
ing to the laws of polarization of light by 
reflection, this proved that the light of the 
sky is sunlight reflected from solid particles 
in the air. Moreover, the maximum polar- 
ization occurs in a great circle of the 
heavens, ninety degrees from the sun. 
In 1853 ^^^ German physicist, Briickc, 
showed that the light scattered by fine 
particles in a turbid medium is blue, and 
that the blue of the sky is in reality much 
deeper than Newton had supposed, being 
of at least the second or third order. 

In 1869 Tyndall showed by some beau- 
tiful experiments, which have since become 
famous, that when the particles causing 

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the turbidity are so exceedingly fine as to be 
invisible with a powerful microscope, the 
scattered light is not only a magnificent 
blue, but it is polarized in the plane of 
scattering, the amount of the polarization 
being a maximum at an angle of ninety 
degrees with the incident light. The 
definition of objects seen through this 
fine-grained medium was found to be 
unimpaired by the turbidity. 

Having thus penetrated the cause of the 
blue color of the sky, it is not a very great 
leap to infer that a similar explanation 

holds for the color of the ocean, which 
next to the sky offers to our senses the 
most attractive tints of the great objects 
in nature. The saline and other mineral 
substances dissolved in the waters of the 
sea may be looked upon as infinitely small 
particles in a turbid medium; and these 
should reflect the sunlight and give a 
bluish-green appearance to the ocean, just 
such as we observe. For the salts are not 
in chemical combination with the water, 
but merely dissolved in the medium, and 
thus constitute an infinitely fine mixture 

low "^R.o^^3-^ 

The Sittch 





The Booklovers Magazine 

of molecules and particles suspended in a 
colorless fluid. The light of the sun pen- 
etrates the ocean to a considerable depth 
before all the reflections are produced, and 
the depth of this layer is such that some 
of the shorter waves of blue are absorbed, 
while the slightly longer waves of green 
are transmitted. This accounts for the 
appearance of the well-known greenish 
tinge in the color of the ocean. — T. J. J. 
See in The Atlantic Alonthly. 

He never liad dreamed of tht o-rewsome things 
Witli teeth, beaks, claws, and most poisonons 

That dwell in the deadly liam ; 
Nor had he surmised that the typhoid germ 
In the oyster's innards delights to squirm, 

Or that death lurks in tlie clam. 

No journals of health and no ' ' pure food ' ' ads. 
Ever scared him silly and took his scads. 

Or told him, " Uneeda bite 
Of our shredded thistles and fiaked baleil hay," 
"Stop the grazing-habit," " Take Anti-Bray, 

"Try Balaam's bran mash — it's light." 

"The Better Part of Valor" 

Mr. Nolan had received a long tongue- 
lashing from Mr. Quigley, and his friends 
were urging on him the wisdom of vindi- 
cating his honor by a prompt use of his fists. 

"But he's more than me equal," said 
Mr. Nolan, dubiously, "and look at the 
size of him." 

" Sure and you don't want folks to be 
saying Terry Nolan is a coward?" de- 
manded a reproachful friend. 

" Well, I dunno," and Mr. Nolan gazed 
mournfully about him. "I'd rather that 
than to have them saying day after to- 
morrow, ' How natural Terry looks! ' " — 
The Youth's Companion. 

A LucKy Man 

In the good old times lived a lucky man 
Who boarded himself on a simple plan — 

At least in his salad-days. 
His meals were ready, foul weather or fine; 
And when he was hungry he went to dine. 

Untroubled by means or ways. 

He'd never been told of the microbes small 
That wriggle and wiggle and creep and crawl 

In all things consumed by man. 
He never had learned that liacilli bold 
Are pining to fasten with bull-dog hold 

On our vitals when they can. 

No doctor had warned liim of ptomains, or 
The bacteria vile tiiat swarm galore 

In the cup that merely cheers. 
Nobody had told him what drinks to shun. 
That coffee's a snare of the evil one. 

And that bugs infest all beers. 

No rumor had reached him that meat's a fad, 
That fish is a danger and fowl's as bad. 

That pie should be draped with crape. 
No hint had he that the juice of the cow 
Is alive with beasties that don't allow 

A guilty man to escape. 

Poor, ignorant, unhygienic lad ! 

You didn't know what an escape you'd had 

When you dined with ox and ass. 
And Nebuchadnezzar, be glad inside 
That sterilized health-foods you never tried 

Nor ate predigested grass. 

—IV. E. P. French in Life. 

Etiquette for Fiat Dwellers 

People who must live in flats will be 
glad to hear that Mr. W. E. D. Stokes, 
proprietor of the Ansonia, one of New 
York's best apartment houses, has formu- 
lated a code of rules for his tenants that 
may become the standard of etiquette in 
flat-life generally. The need of some sort 
of law governing this matter has long been 
felt. Many a lady whose apartments are on 
the top floor has been wondering whether 
she ought or ought not to consider herself 
the equal of the lady who has the first flat 
on the second floor. Their maids may sit 
together on the rear stairway and gossip 
through the dumb-waiter shaft, but these 
facts cannot be regarded as sufficient in 
themselves for the obliteration of social 
barriers between our ladies of the flats. 
Therefore the rules promulgated by Mr. 
Stokes will remove a great strain and be 
hailed with deep gratitude. Here are the 
principal laws of apartment-house etiquette 
as Mr. Stokes has interpreted them : 

1. Don't feel that you are forced to 
receive other tenants in your apartment 
house as social equals just because they 
pay the same rent you do. 

2. Don't feel obliged to call on Mrs. A. 
because your children and hers play to- 
gether. That doesn't make the parents 

3. Gentlemen residing in the same apart- 
ment house with a ladv will bow to her 




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when they meet, on the elevator or in 
the hallway. This shall not apply to 
meeting on the street, however, unless 
there is some further claim to acquaint- 
ance than being tenants of the same land- 

4. If you are calling on one tenant in an 
apartment house and wish to call on an- 
other in the same house, go downstairs 
and send your card up to the second 
tenant. Do not go direct from the first 
apartment to the second. 

5. A quarrel between you and the other 
children's parents should not prevent your 
children from playing with the others, but 
must keep them from visiting. 

We might add, not for the purpose of 
discrediting Mr. Stokes, but merely be- 
cause we fear that he has in his haste 
overlooked a few important points, these 
supplementary rules: 

I. Don't suppose because Mrs. B. takes 
ice from the same iceman whom you 
patronize that you must regard her as your 
social equal. Give her the cold stare just 


what! five dollars a gallon for gasoline! that's outrageous! 
wal, thf.rc's anothkr store ten miles further on. mebbe ve 
might get it a little cheaper there. 

the same as if she got her icebox filled by 
somebody else. 

2. Never permit your husband to run 
across the hall at night when the J. woman 
yells for help. The burglars who are dis- 
turbing her may be the ones who entered 
your flat the week before, but that does not 
necessarily raise her to your social level. 

3. Remember that because Mrs. F. gets 
milk out of the same can from which your 
milk is dipped she is not necessarily a 
member of j'our set. Don't invite her to 
call merely on that account. 

4. Don't imagine that you are obliged to 
receive Mrs. N. simply because she came 
downstairs to jaw the janitor while you 
were giving him gowdy. 

5. If you have quarrelled with the people 
in the flat below you because they don't like 
your pianola, and they have also fallen out 
with the people below them on account 
of their talking machine, you are not to 
suppose that you and the other offenders 
are social equals. 

Through a strict observance of these 
simple rules people who live in 
flats may avoid many heartaches, 
and the stability of our demo- 
cratic institutions will be assured. 
, — Chicago Record- Herald. 

A Latter=Day DicKens 

The picture of the late Mr. 
Gissing, on page 421, is the work of 
Mrs. Clarence Rook. It was made 
on his last visit to England at the 
house of Mr. H. G. Wells, who for 
a joke had signed Mrs. Rook's 
sketch as well as Mr. Gissing. 
1 his picture gives a capital im- 
pression of the late novelist. 

Mr. George Gissing, it seems 
to me, was a demonstration that 
it is not only of the poets it can 
be said that 

Tliey learn in siifferinc what 
tliey teach in song. 

It was his experience, through 
some years of penury in London, 
of the life of what are called the 
" lower middle classes " — those 
illiterate classes whose favorite ex- 
pressions may be summarised in 
" Isn't it ? " and " (^nly fancy ! " 
— that his greatest gifts came out. 


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Here, I think, he had a grip on the 
reahties of life that left him unequalled 
among recent English writers of fiction. 
Others have described the poor, the rich, 
and Mr. Matthew Arnold's great "middle 
class," with abundant talent; but that 
class which Dickens knew so well in the 
thirties, when, as I am inclined to believe, 
it had higher spirits and more of humor 
than it knows today — spirits and humor 
which were not all of the author's inven- 

picture of a phase of English life that has 
not been painted by any other artist, will 
outlive the work of most of his contem- 
poraries — of the men, that is to say, of 
the same age as himself. Yet it cannot 
be said that any success attended the 
presentation of these marvellous pictures. 
I know one editor who published one of 
Mr. Gissing's books serially in a newspaper, 
and for many years was constantly publish- 
ing his short stories, though I am confident 

Draijun from life by Mrs. Clarence Rook 

The Sphe-e 

tion — has only been described as it is today 
by Mr. Gissing. 

Mr. Gissing knew that world, as it has 
existed m the eighties and nineties, 
thoroughly. He had seen it in all its 
monstrous sordidness and unloveliness, 
and he has pamted it with the truthfulness 
of one of the Dutch masters, I am not 
sure but that some of those early books of 
Mr. Gissing's, containing as they do a 

that there was practically no public appre- 
ciation of the work. It secured a few 
genuine admirers, and among them Mr. 
Gissing was naturally most gratified by 
the appreciation of such eminent contem- 
poraries as Mr. Meredith, Mr. Hardy, 
and Mr. Barrie. 

I recall several pleasant Whitsuntide 
holidays in Mr. Gissing's company at 
Aldeburgh when the days were delightfully 


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passed on Mr. Edward Clodd's boat, the 
Lotus. Mr. Gissing contributed the fol- 
lowing verses to our host's notebook on 
one of these occasions : 

The Lotus on a sunny reach, 

And friends al)oard lier frankly human, 
Chatting o'er all that time can teach — 

Of heaven and earth, of man and woman. 

An eddy in the silent flow 

Of days and years tiiat bear us — whither.-' 
We know not ; but 'tis well to know 

We spent tiiis sunny day togetlier. 

— Clement K . Shorter in The Sphere. 

How Medicines "Go to the 
Right Spot" 

Recent experiments in France show that 
the white-blood globules, also called "leu- 
cocytes," fulfil a very important function 
in distributing medicinal drugs to all parts 
of the body, and in carrying them to the 
spot where they will do the most good. 

This is shown by various experiments. 
Here, for instance, is a rabbit under whose 

skin is injected a little strychnin or atropin. 
At the end of, say, half an hour, some of 
the blood is drawn off and divided by cen- 
trifugal treatment into its three parts — 
leucocytes, red globules, and plasma. Equal 
quantities of each are injected into three 
animals, and it is seen that the one that 
receives the leucocytes is poisoned, while 
the others are not. 

The leucocytes transfer these from one 
part of the body to another, and this is their 
greatest utility. It is the more so that the 
place where they transport these substances 
varies according to circumstances. In nor- 
mal conditions — that is, in health — the 
leucocytes carry the drug to the liver and 
marrow. In illness they carry it to the 
affected points, to the centres of irritation, 
where the arrival of the leucocytes is most 
desirable. . . . Here there is a remarkable, 
but very natural and in no way mysterious, 
electricity by which the organism profits 
greatly. All we have to do is to discover 
the element that we should give to the 
leucocytes to act most effectively. But we 

Courieiy of The National Maiaxint 






National Debt 


Mercantile Marine 

Men in Army 

Men in Navy 

Guns in Navy 

Tonnage of Navy 




The Booklovers Magazine 

can depend on them to carry iron to the 
blood-making organs, iodoform to tubercu- 
lous lesions, salicylate of soda to affected 
joints, etc. . . . There is another fact that 
must be taken into account. The leuco- 
cytes, it is true, carry drugs to afifected 
points, but they carry them also, with 
special insistence, to certain organs. Dififer- 
ent organs attract different drugs : the liver, 
iron ; the thyroid gland, arsenic and iodin ; 
while the skin, the spleen, the lymphatic 
ganglia, and other organs seem to constitute 
regions of choice for several chemical sub- 
stances. This specificity of localization is 
well known in the case of certain drugs — 
iodin, iron, arsenic — and we should be able 
to recognize it in all other medicaments. 
This knowledge would doubtless enable us 
to control useful action and, perhaps, also 
to avoid certain injurious forms of action. 
In fine, the role of the leucocytes in the 
transportation of medicines is of high im- 
portance, and it is to be hoped that in- 
vestigation along this line may be followed 
out with great care. — La Revue Scientifique. 

Rules and Regulations 

At the New International Woman's 
Club, which is now in process, the 
following rules will be enforced: 

All members will be continually posted — 
about the affairs of the others. 

Private gossip rooms, holding two com- 
fortably, can be had at the desk. 

The VVHiist Club will meet invariably in 
the music room. 

Any waiter or employee who can succeed 
in getting any member to tip him will have 
his salary raised. 

Members will please remove their dia- 
mond earrings while playing pool or 

A special perfumery room will be 
provided for scent incurables. 

One portion of food will not be served 
to more than half a dozen. 

When the President and Board of 
Directors are transacting business, the 
Club-house will be closed. 

Each member will be limited to one cozy 
corner. — Life. 


The hat of the average Panaman, 

In most social circles would ban a man, 

But the sun, at the Isthmus, 

Even on Christmas, 
Would otherwise grievously tan a man. 




The Pope on Church Music 

We have deemed it expedient to point 
out briefly the principles regulating sacred 
music in the functions of public worship, 
and to gather together in a general survey 
the principal prescriptions of the Church 
against the more common abuses in this 
subject. We do therefore publish, tnotu 
propria and with certain knowledge, our 
present Instruction, to which, as to a jurid- 
ical code of sacred music, we will, with the 
fulness of our Apostolic Authority, that 
the force of law be given, and we do by 
our present handwriting impose its scru- 
pulous observance on all. 

The Gregorian Chant has always been 
regarded as the supreme model for sacred 
music, so that it is quite proper to lay 
down the following rule: the more closely 
a composition for church approaches in its 
movement, inspiration, and savor to the 
Gregorian form, the more sacred and litur- 
gical it becomes: and the more out of harmony 
it is ziith that suf>reme model, the less worthy 
is it of the temple. 

Since, however, modern music has arisen 
mainly to serve profane uses, greater care 
must be taken with regard to it, in order 
that the musical compositions of modern 

V lUuitra-ion 




The Booklovers Magazine 

style which are admitted in the Church 
may contain nothing profane, be free from 
reminiscences of motifs adopted in the 
theatres, and be not fashioned even in their 
external forms after the manner of profane 

Singers in church have a real liturgical 
office, and therefore women, as being 
incapable of exercising such office, cannot 
be admitted to form part of the choir, or 
the musical chapel. Whenever, then, it is 
desired to employ the high voices of 
sopranos and contraltos, these parts must 
be taken by boys, according to the most 
ancient usage of the Church. 

The employment of the piano is forbid- 
den in church, as is also that of loud- 
sounding or lighter instruments, such as 
drums, cymbals, bells, and the like. 

It is strictly forbidden to have bands 
play in the church, and only in a special 

case and with the consent of the Ordinary 
will it be permissible to admit a number 
of wind instruments, limited, well selected, 
and proportioned to the size of the place — 
provided the composition and the accom- 
paniment to be executed be written in a 
grave and suitable style, and similar in all 
respects to that proper to the organ. 

It is not lawful to keep the priest at the 
altar waiting on account of the chant or 
the music for a length of time not allowed 
by the liturgy. 

Given from our Apostolic Palace at the 
Vatican, on the day of the Virgin and 
Martyr, St. Cecilia, November 22, 1903, 
in the first year of our Pontificate. — 
Encyclical of Pius X . 

(bkhind the scenes, ten degrees below freezing-point) 

CHORUS or sirens: come to these bow— ers! 
radiant with flow— ers! 
here love shall bless you, 
here endeth long— ing; 
soft arms shall press you, 
'mid blissks throng— ing. 

An Indestructible Race 

One of the strangest phenomena of 
literary history, or indeed of history 
at large, is the project for a Hebrew 
encyclopedia — which is now half 
way to completion, written in 
English, and owing its inception 
to the enterprise of an American 
firm. Eut an encyclopaedia in 
Hebrew is a work which even an 
American advertiser might shrink 
from proclaiming indispensable to 
every household. Yet such an 
encyclopa;dia is not really so sur- 
prising a phenomenon as it may 
appear to Christendom. While 
popular ignorance deems Hebrew 
literature closed with the Old 
Testament, or at latest with the 
Talmud, the scribes have never 
ceased writing for a moment. 
None keener than they to wel- 
come the invention of Gutenberg, 
the art of writing at once with 
many pens," as one of them 
phrased it. Myriads of volumes, 
pouring forth pauselessly through 
the ages, attest the genius and 
the pedantry, the spirituality and 
sterility of the race. If the belief 
that Hebrew literature ended with 
the Old Testament is a vulgar 
error, no less an error were it to 
imagine that it is still a holy litera- 
ture, in the sense in which holi- 
ness is synonymous with piety and 
ecclesiasticism. So marvelous a 

Thi Sketch 

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survival of an ancient language, 
and so unequaled a flow of litera- 
ture from Genesis to the last 
number of the Hazeoi, the Hebrew 
journal published in Jerusalem — 
produced by a race that lost its 
fatherland eighteen centuries ago, 
and has since lived on the edge of 
volcanoes — tempts one to consider 
the inter-relations between Israel's 
language and Israel's life. 

Language is the chief index of 
life. As no man is dead so long 
as the mirror put to his lips reveals 
a breath, so no race is extinct so 
long as there comes from its lips 
the breath of speech. A people 
that speaks is not dead ; a people 
that is not dead, speaks. 

Let us apply this test of life to 
the so-called emancipated Jewries, 
to the Jewries of the post-Ghetto 
period. I will take England and 
America, which I know best. 
Among the richer and more edu- 
cated Jews of London all words of 
a specifically Jewish character have 
been gradually dropped. Substract 
from the American Jewish diction- 
ary all American terms, and what 
remains? Practically nothing. 
Roughly speaking, no specific 
Jewish language now exists in 
America, ergo no specific Jewish 
life. Very nearly the same statement is true 
of London. Unless, then, our test is false, 
we reach the undeniable conclusion that 
Jewish life disappears outside the Ghetto. 
It may have an apparent existence through 
Jews intermarrying, and this lingers on like 
an actor loth to quit the stage, but 
practically it is extinct. — Israel Zangwillm 
The Lamp. 

JeKyll and Hyde 

Besides being a statesman Senator Dry- 
den, of New Jersey, is also the president 
of a prominent life insurance company. 
The other day he received a letter like this : 

" Dear Sir — I am desirous of taking out 
a life insurance policy, and as I am from 
your State, I thought I would write you 
directly, thinking I might get better terms, 
especially as I am in the best of health 
and would be an excellent risk. I have 

"Dranvn by Scotson Clark 

The Sphere 

never suffered a day's serious illness in my 
life. I would be glad if you would have 
one of your agents directed to give my 
matter personal attention. Very truly 
yours, John Smith." 

The next letter the senator picked up 
had been forwarded to him from the 
insurance company's main office, and was 
along this line : 

" Dear Sir — Can't you get me a pension ? 
I served in the Spanish war, contracted a 
fever in Cuba, and have since suffered 
with weakness of the back and legs, shock 
to nervous system, diseases of the stomach 
and digestive organs, vertigo, and other 
ailments until I am a physical wreck. If 
anything is to be done for me it must come 
soon. Very respectfully, John Smith." 

Mr. Smith had made the embarrassing 
mistake of addressing the application for 
pension to the insurance office and the 
letter about the policy to Washington. 


The Booklovers Magazine 

Had he not done this his deception would 
probably never liave been discovered. 

As a result Mr. Smith will receive 
neither the pension nor the policy. — 
Boston Post. 

The Commuter 

I could enjoy the mornings bright, 

The robin's greeting each new day, 
The hedges fringed with hawthorn white, 

The meadows where the new-mown hay 

Allures a lazy soul to stray; 
But if I pause in field or lane 

I hear the voice of conscience say : 
" You won't have time to catch the train." 

I could enjoy my breakfast, quite 

In leisurely, old-fashioned way, 
And ponder with a wild delight 

O'er politics or foreign fray, 

Yet, be my coffee weak and gray, 
I 've not a moment to complain — 

Cries Bridget: " Sure, if ye delay 
Ye' II not 'ave toime to catch the train ! " 

I could enjoy in town at night 

The latest music or the play. 
And afterwards, perchance, a bite 

At some great, laughter-filled cafe. 

Alas ! the bill-boards but portray 
The pleasures from whicii I abstain — 

My tyrant holds them all at bay; 
I won't have time to catch the train. 

Ah, prince of medieval sway. 

Though naught was yours of modern gain. 
The price of time you did not pay — 
You never had to catch a train ! 

— Charlotte Becker in Puck. 

Courttsy of Tht Tbtatrt 

Drwwn by Himself 

Enrico Caruso 

One of the sensations of the present 
opera season, apart from the production of 
Parsifal, has been the American debut of 
Signor Enrico Caruso, the Italian tenor. 
The writer had a little chat with him the 
other day. As soon as one enters the 
house America is left outside. All is Ital- 
ian, from the pretty black-eyed maid witli 
her gold hoop ear-rings, who opened the 
door, to the artistic furnishings and 

Caruso welcomed us in the affable Ital- 
ian manner. He is very broad shouldered, 
with splendid chest development ; and al- 
most his first remark was to complain that 
the American newspapers have persistently 
described him as short. 

"Am I short?" he exclaimed, drawing 
himself up. And standing beside a friend 
several inches shorter, he added indig- 
nantly : "I am five feet nine; is that 
short ? I do not make use of devices for 
increasing my height either, no high heels 
or inner heels." 

The singer has the black hair and eyes 
and the dark complexion usually associated 
in this country with Italians, nor is this 
strange, since he comes from Naples, the 
most musical part of that land of song. 

"What are your favorite roles?" 

"I have none. I do not believe in 
favorite roles. An artist, to" be an artist, 
should sing all roles — always provided they 
are well written and really good music — 
equally well. He should throw himself 
into them, become the character or else" — 
an expressive shrug — " he is not an artist." 

" Do you sing any Wagnerian roles?" 

A characteristic shrug followed. 

"I have sung Lohengrin in Italian, 
nothing else. The Wagnerian roles are 
not for me. I do not wish to ruin my 
voice. My compass is so" (he measured 
a distance of two feet), " the Wagnerian 

The Booklovers Magazine 


tenor roles are all written here" (another 
gesture, indicating the upper third of his 
compass) . " If I sing only up there, what 
happens? No, they are not for us Ital- 
ians. When I am forty-five or fifty, per- 
haps then I will sing them. It will not 
matter then if I spoil my voice," 

The tenor is very clever at caricatures, 
and was very willing to dash off the ac- 
companying caricature of himself for The 
Theatre magazine. 

Signor Caruso could not become enthu- 
siastic over our climate. "It is not the 

cold, no, nor is it dampness, but these 
terrible and continual changes, every day 
different. Nor do I like your heated 
houses. They are too warm. And New 
York is too noisy — an inferno.^^ — Elise 
Lathrop in The Theatre. 

The Uses of a Crank 

" People called me insane," said the late 
George Francis Train, " and I don't blame 
them. What would a village of peanuts 
say if some day a cocoanut rolled in among 

"Bart" in The Minneapolis Tribune 

I .Mi./f _! .,/ O. .<itltlon f Co. 



The Booklovers Magazine 


them?" His aid in founding the Union 
Pacific and introducing the tram-car sys- 
tem into England, some of his public 
speeches, and even his queer autobiog- 
raphy, show how lucid a crank can be, 
and how serviceable. For crank he cer- 
tainly was — "champion crank," as he liked 
to call himself — and yet society could have 
better spared some saner people. Nature 
can often find no other way to drive a 
mind to useful work than by this same 
conviction that it is a cocoanut in a peanut 
world, and we all know men who accom- 
plish little because they see too much. 
Many of us can only have the requisite 
absorption in the thing in hand in propor- 
tion as we are not philosophers, and it is 
astonishing how much of the world's busi- 
ness is performed by the most lop-sided of 
its citizens. In the mind of every crank 
there is apt to be one cultivated corner. 
To do one thing well we must tempo- 
rarily forget everything else. The 
crank is a man who permanently 
forgets all other things or never 
knew them, and who has not 
genius enough to make us forgive 
his eccentricity. One of his main 
uses today is to show specialists 
what they may come to if they do 
not take care. "Young man, 
think of nothing but your job," 
was the solemn advice of a million- 
aire, and it points as clearly to a 
padded cell as to a fortune. 
Another blessing that we owe to 
him is the vivid way in which he 
reduces all extremes to their ab- 
surdity. Steadfastness with him 
becomes a fixity, stanch opinion 
a mere mental wart, and vanity, 
from taking no vacation, settles 
down into mania of greatness. 
Cranks win some followers, but 
they help all outsiders to be more 
sane. When she makes a crank, 
Nature is teaching the world by a 
practical joke to take more interest 
in her variety. — Collier's IVeek'y. 

levied in England on his head, on the 
ground that it was a gas-works. " I 
don't know you," he wrote, " but I've 
met your son. He was at the head of a 
procession in the Strand, and I was on a 
'bus." Years afterwards he met the King 
at Homburg, and they had a long talk. 
At parting the king said : " I am glad to 
have met you again." That last word 
troubled Mark, who asked whether the 
King had not mistaken him for some- 
one else. The reply — " Why, don't you 
remember meeting me in the Strand when 
I was at the head of a procession and you 
were on a 'bus?" revealed the strength 
of Royal memories. — The Sketch. 

The Peril of the Law's Delay 

Of remedies for the lynching evil the 
most notable yet proposed is that advo- 
cated by Justice David J. Brewer. In 

"MarK"and '•Edward" 

Mark Twain observed once at CoPr'tl". 'OOI. by Harper & -Brothers Courusy of Harper & Brothers 

a public dinner that he had written MARK TWAIN RE-TRANSLATING "THE JUMPING FROG" 

a friendly letter to Queen Victoria FROM FRENCH INTO ENGLISH 

protesting against a tax being Draivn by R. Stroihmann 


The Booklovers Magazine 

cases of capital crime he would have the 
nearest judge convene court as early as 
possible for the trial of the accused. He 
would abolish appeals in all criminal cases, 
but would allow the prisoner to submit at 
once to the Supreme Court a stenographic 
report of the evidence, a new trial to be 
granted should the court reach the con- 
clusion that the wrong man had been 
convicted, but never for mere violation of 
legal technicalities. VVe may not wish to 
go so far, but the fact that a member of 
our highest court suggests such a remedy 
for the weakness of the judiciary and the 
spread of lawlessness is enough to convince 
all of the need of genuine reform. For 
example, it is stated on high authority 
that "not a single public official charged 
with wrongdoing in New York within the 
last fifteen years has actually .received legal 
punishment. Many have been indicted; 
a number have been convicted and sen- 
tenced, but some higher court has inter- 
fered in every case, always on the ground 
of a flaw in the indictment or some other 
purely technical defect, and never on the 
relative merits of the question at issue." 
One inexcusable fault was pointed out 
by a Southern bar association some time 
ago in a resolution which declared that 
new trials should not be granted on account 
of error "unless it appear to the satisfac- 
tion of the appellate court that such error 
probably and reasonably affected the result 
adversely to the appealing party." The 
mere statement of such a condition is 
argument enough for a change. Let us 
not blame the criminal lawyer for using 
these opportunities for delay; let us blame 
ourselves for permitting them to exist. 

It is not the criminal's rights, but the 
court's rights, that we need to emphasize. 
In his heart of hearts every man must say 
with the lynchers that the rapist is a brute 
who has forfeited all human rights. But 
the law that we have set up in God's 
name, and in the name of all the people — 
this has the highest and noblest of rights, 
and it is the law's right to try the criminal, 
not the criminal's right to a lawful trial, 
that is violated whenever and wherever an 
irresponsible minority usurps the powers 
which the whole people have vested in 
our courts of justice. We need to teach 
that if Satan himself should commit a 
crime we should try him in legal form — 

not for Satan's sake, but for the sake of 
law and order and civilization ; not that he 
would have the right to a court trial, but 
that our courts alone would have the right 
to try him ; and that trial by any other 
body is, and will ever be, usurpation and 
minority rule — un-American, undemo- 
cratic, and unendurable. — Clarence H. Poe, 
in The Atlantic Monthly. 

A Cheerful View 

Two men who had been sitting together 
in the seat near the door of a railway car 
became engaged in an animated controversy, 
and their loud voices attracted the attention 
of all the other passengers. Suddenly one 
of them arose and said : 

" Ladies and gentlemen : I appeal to you 
to decide a disputed point. My friend here 
insists that not more than three people out 
of every five believe they have souls. I take 
a more cheerful view of humanity than 
that. Will all of you who believe you 
have souls raise your right hands?" 

Every hand in the car went up. 

"Thank you," he said with a smile. 
" Keep them up just a minute. Now will 
all of you who believe in a hereafter please 
raise your left hand also?" 

Every hand in the car went up. 

"Thank you," he said. "Now while 
all of you have your hands raised," he con- 
tinued, drawing a pair of revolvers and 
leveling them, " my friend here will go 
down the aisle and relieve you of whatever 
valuable articles you may have. Lively 
now, Jim." — Exchange. 

Song for Sir Gawain 

Love, hatched and fledged within my lieart, 

Spread f(irth his wings to fly, 
So glad and eager to depart 
He never said good-by. 
Let liim go ! 
He is not worth a sigh. 

He flitted here, he flitted there, 
With many a turn and tack, 
Till, weary grown of life elsewhere, 
He took the homeward track. 
Be it so! 
The wanderer's welcome back. 

■—Henry Johnstone, in lite Century. 

R. I. Attken, Sculftor 




BooKLOVERS Magazine 

VOL. Ill 

APRIL, 1904 

NO. 4 

What is Really at Stake in Asia 


The Russo-Japanese war has suddenly 
altered the world's balance of continental 
power. Asia asserts itself after four cen- 
turies of ebb. From the battle of Lepanto 
to the torpedo-attack on Port Arthur you 
will look in vain for naval victory by an 
Asiatic fleet. The United States is first 
heard in war asserting its historic policy of 
the rights of neutrals over the conflicts and 
the convenience of belligerents. Russia, 
which in Asia has never known defeat and 
only once retreat — from Kuldja and Hi — 
faces the most staggering reverse yet 
inflicted on an European power in the slow 
process under which, through two centu- 
ries, northern Asia has gone to the Czar, 
and the heart of southern Asia, India, to 
the rival English flag. In a long curve from 
the Persian Gulf to eastern Thibet, from 
the mouth of the Euphrates to the source 
of the Brahma-Putra, English outposts 
today watch the advance of the Russian flag 
and wait for the last conflict which shall 
decide whether the future development of 
Asia shall be Muscovite or English, mili- 
tary or civilian, the work of despotism or 
the fruit of law — a contest Japan, the ally 
of England, may be deciding. 

On the world's stage no such sudden, 
strange shifting of armies and alarums has 
been seen since the nineteenth century, in 
its first decade, saw England achieve the 
control of the Ocean at Trafalgar and 
secure India at Assaye, while the principle 
of nationalities asserted itself by the sudden 
rising of Germany and Spain against 
Napoleon in Europe, and the United 
States, by the Louisiana purchase, first 
claimed a continent for its own. All that 
has developed since for a century, in all seas 
and on all lands, has borne its inevitable 
relation to these four events. War and 
peace, the shock of conflict and the devel- 
opment of trade, have all for a century 
flowed in the channel created by the twin 
English empires of the Ocean and of India, 
by national forces remaking the map of 
Europe, and by the expansion of the United 

A new epoch began when the first Jap- 
anese torpedo-boat exploded its Whitehead 
torpedo against a Russian battle-ship in the 
roadstead of? Port Arthur. It was much 
that an Asiatic power, for the first 
time since Tartar and Turk began their 
retreat from the Vistula and the Danube, 


The Booklovers Magazine 

took the initiative in war with an European 
power, and forced a heady and victorious 
fight. It was more that the newspapers 
which chronicled the event recorded, too, 
that the United States asserted itself as an 
Asiatic power, and drew the line where the 
rising tide of war must stop and its proud 
waves be stayed. The European power 
in Asiatic conflict has made small account 
of boundaries and neutral rights. Russia 
is in Manchuria without regard to them. 
Neither Clive nor Hastings, VVellesley nor 
Lawrence, waited on boundaries or treated 
Asiatic sovereignties as capable of either 
enjoying or enforcing neutral rights. 

When President McKinley — remember- 
ing he was an American president, 
restrained by law — withdrew General 
Chafifee from Peking as soon as the work 
of succor was over, he showed the same 
respect for a friendly sovereignty in Asia as 
in Europe or America. When Russia 
broke pledge after pledge for the evacua- 
tion of Manchuria, it was by a commercial 
treaty and not by a military demonstration 
that Secretary Hay made plain to the Rus- 
sian government the unfriendly verdict of 
the civilized world on its breach of faith in 
maintaining its illegal armed occupation of 
Chinese territory. Now that war has 
come. Secretary Hay, by a diplomacy as 
shrewd as it is effective, has not only 
pledged the united powers to limit war to 
Manchuria, but has rendered it certain 
that, when war ends and peace comes, the 
independence of the Chinese Empire and 
its present administrative limits must be 

These are great results to secure with- 
out putting a ship in commission or moving 
a regiment, by a simple, high-minded appeal 
to the admitted rights of neutrals and the 
mutual respect of nations for law; but the 
appeal would have counted for naught if 
the United States were, as a decade ago, 
a power without a fleet or without foreign 
relations. It is because in the interval the 
United States has built a fleet, forced two 
arbitrations over Venezuela early and late, 
fought the battles of Manila and Santiago, 
and acquired the Philippines, that Secretary 

Hay speaks with authority. In the Philip- 
pines the United States has once gathered 
the second largest army any civilized power 
has had in Asia, equal to the army with 
which England garrisoned India, and 
second only to the great force whose can- 
tonments stretch from the Ural to the 
Great White Mountains of Manchuria, 
from Ekaterinsburg to \'ladivostok. Our 
fleet, as M. Pelletan, the French Minister 
of Marine, has just said in a speech, must 
be one of the greater fleets of the Pacific, 
and no European power except England 
could expect to exceed it. 

Material force in these issues lies behind 
diplomacy, and diplomacy behind trade. 
The world's next great market is China. 
Its railroads will decide the iron demand 
of the world, as European railroads did 
from 1830 to 1870, and our own in their 
expansion and equipment from 1 870 to 
1900. Semi-tropical India is limited in its 
consumption by a climate which prevents 
any true civilization, which has never yet 
gone below the thirtieth parallel in its 
wider material development. All India 
lies south of this parallel, the parallel of 
New Orleans, of Thebes and Babylon, of 
Cairo and Bagdad, the southern limit of 
northern civilization and development. 
Three-quarters of China lies north of this 
parallel. The Chinese area above it is only 
a little short of that of the United States. 
The manufactures and material of civili- 
zation will be wanted for substantially all 
of China. They are possible in only a 
narrow rim of India. The real issue of 
the twentieth century is whether this vast 
market of China is to be open to the best 
comer, or be made the appanage and 
customer of Russian manufactures, just 
developing, and the Siberian railroad sys- 
tem. Our own trade steadily increases in 
China as one moves north. It is light at 
Canton. It is heaviest at Niu-chwang, the 
most northern of the free ports which 
are still held by Russia, though outside of 

Behind all the web of diplomacy which 
has followed one unfailing policy since the 
Boxer insurrection precipitated interfer- 

Thh Booklovers Magazine 


r-- "X^ ? /"''■■^A<^3^ 

Drawn by Bradley 

Courtesy of The Chicago News 


ence — in the steadfast recognition of 
Chinese sovereignty', the early withdrawal 
of American troops, the declared policy of 
the " open door," new free ports opened 
by the treaty which so afifronted Russia 
by asserting Chinese sovereignty over 
Manchuria, and lastly the maintenance of 
Chinese neutrality under an international 
sanction — there has run the same settled 
purpose : the preservation in the present 
for the future of the one great market 
not yet sealed as a garden enclosed by 
some national protection system, under 
which, if Mr. Joseph Chamberlain suc- 
ceeds in his plan of surrounding the British 
Empire by a tariff fence, even India must 
before long fall. 

Secretary Hay, to accomplish this, has 

proposed in Asia a wider application of 
the principle of neutral territory, already 
in force in Europe for a century. Switzer- 
land was set apart as neutral in 1815, and 
its boundaries have since been inviolate. 
Nothing so arrayed the public mind and 
conscience of Europe against the system 
of Napoleon as his headlong violation of 
Helvetian neutrality. It has found no one 
ready to meddle with it. Belgium was 
neutralized in 1839; Luxemburg in 1867; 
the Ionian Isles just before. The neutral 
character of Belgium, Luxemburg, and 
Switzerland has been preserved under the 
stress of successive wars. If the policy of 
Secretary Hay places China under the 
same moral protection, avast and populous 
region, unwarlike — which for a thousand 


The Booklovers Magazine 

years, since the Sung dynasty, has never 
successfully resisted invasion — is given, by 
diplomatic action accepted by all the 
powers at peace and the two powers at 
war, the lasting defense of an international 
guaranty of neutrality. Made now for a 
single contest and conflict, it is certain — 
experience shows — to harden into a 
general precedent universally observed. 

If, for nearly a century, it has been pos- 
sible to secure and enforce this for small 
and defenceless lands — environed more 
than once by great armies in conflict and 
strategically cramped by these neutral terri- 
tories — it should be possible still more to 
do it for China. Once done, a great step 
has been taken towards a recognition 
of the claims of peace and the defence of 
the weak. Spanish-American lands are 
already screened from war by our guaranty, 
and the operations of the allies a year ago 
against Venezuela are the last this genera- 
tion will see. It is an unwritten chapter 
of Anglo-American diplomacy, already per- 
ceived by the far-sighted and the subject of 
informal discussion and conference among 
the few competent to an opinion, that if 
England were involved in an European 
war, it would be cheaper to accept the 
neutralization of Canada and the North 
Atlantic by the United States than for 
England to gain the few men who would 
be furnished by the Dominion. The 
United States has already announced that 
it can permit no colony to be transferred 
by war or purchase from one European 
power to another. It is a short step from 
this to prevent their invasion in war. Nor 
would any power care to undertake so 
perilous an enterprise at cost of hostility 
from the United States. 

Let China be neutralized by common 
agreement — a step already taken for the 
current conflict — and another great area is 
dedicated to peace, on the initiative of the 
United States and under the common 
protection of the powers. If China is to 
remain under the corrupt and corrupting 
administration of the Manchu and Man- 
darin, the palace at Peking and the yamen 
of every province and city, its preservation 

from conquest and annexation will be a 
dubious boon. Its great bulk will rot, like 
a stranded whale, unable either to preserve 
life or direct its course. Nothing kills like 
bad government. Neither trade nor a 
market can long exist where justice and 
administration are both corrupt. Domestic 
manufactures are sure to disappear under 
foreign competition. New industries can- 
not be organized. Mills only rise where 
contracts can be enforced, and where plans 
made for the future can be rendered secure 
by just courts and an honest administration. 
Japan has already, in the first flush of 
success, pledged itself to make no conquest 
in Chinese territory. The Island Empire is 
more interested than any other power in 
seeing China preserved inviolate. It was 
a Japanese protest which forced Italy to 
withdraw from San-mun Bay and halts the 
advance of France from the south. It has 
addressed itself to the task of driving Rus- 
sia across the Amoor. Whatever the result 
of the campaign, Japan has already made 
itself the hope of every Asiatic. The new 
China desires, as Mr. VVu Ting-Fang re- 
minded us, to see Asia preserved for the 
Asiatic, and protected against European 
encroachment. Japan has the secret of 
using European science without ceasing 
to be Asiatic. It is a shallow view of the 
Japanese nation which regards it as Euro- 
peanized. It remains at the core Asiatic. 
What it has borrowed is small by the side 
of what it has retained. The prospect, 
strong twenty years ago, that its upper and 
intelligent classes would adopt Christianity, 
has vanished. There has come instead a 
renaissance of Shinto faith, a revival of 
Buddhism — just as Islam grows stronger 
in every Moslem country — and a wide- 
spread desire to preserve the Japanese atti- 
tude in faith, in morals, and in social life. 
The Japanese soldier and sailor — in arms, 
armament, uniform, organization, disci- 
pline, and drill — is European, but he ad- 
dresses himself to his task with a reckless 
disregard of life, a secrecy, a subordination, 
and a freedom from personal ambition 
which recall Asiatic rather than European 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Japan is making the last stand of Asia. 
If it fails, Asia ceases to be a separate 
integer in human development, and 
becomes an appanage of Europe. If Japan 
wins, it has wrestled well and overthrown 
more than its enemies. It will become the 
teacher, first of China and then of a wider 
Asia. Japanese education wisely retains 
Chinese as its classic tongue, playing the 
part in the training which Greek and Latin 
play, or did play, in our own scheme of 
liberal study. Its administrators and offi- 
cers are alone in knowing both Chinese 
classics and modern science. They are 
ready for their task. They have already 
begun it. The prestige of victory will 
give them authority and acceptance in 
remodeling China. Japan, after all, is 
alone in raising an Asiatic State to free 
self-government. Its institutions are less 
like ours than they seem on the surface. 
Prescription plays the prodigious part it 
always has in Asiatic society. The sense 
of personal loyalty to the Emperor is strong 
to a degree no European, much less an 
American, can appreciate or understand. 
That singular attitude of mind which per- 
mits what to us seems abasement in atti- 
tude, ceremony, and action, and yet pre- 
serves a complete self-respect, is retained 
by the Japanese. They vote, they have 
parties, they practice an amazing freedom 
of speech in Japan ; but at the final limit 
political action is bounded and controlled 
by influences and principles unknown and 
alien to the West, but perfectly compre- 
hensible to the Asiatic, who never forgets 
that the state and its supreme head is 
greater than himself, his party, or his 

These things render it certain that 
Japan will be the teacher of China for a 
season, but only for a season. China, too, 
has a type and character — stronger at many 
points than the Japanese — which for thirty 
centuries of little understood history have 
absorbed, colored, and conquered its con- 
querors. It is the reorganization and res- 
urrection of China, rather than its con- 
quest, which Japan may be expected to 
accomplish. Our own new and notable 

experiment in the Philippines — of teaching 
self-government to the Malay Asiatic in a 
generation — may yet outdo Japan ; but 
thus far Japan is alone and unique in being 
both Asiatic and free. It has — none more 
— freedom, self-government, law, loyalty, 
and political institutions. 

Free Japan, in this conflict, faces the 
world's last great powerful despotism. It 
is not long, a matter of three centuries or 
so, since all the world was a desert of 
despotism, and a flickering flame of free- 
dom was fed and tended alone in a few 
Dutch fens and marshes, and behind the 
tossing bulwark sailed and fought by 
Drake and his men. They have all gone, 
one by one, those great despotisms. They 
are moribund all, or vanished. The 
Escurial is empty. The Grand Turk a 
name. The last of the Moguls died in 
exile and a prisoner. The Manchu exists 
by sufferance. Free nations rule the 
world — all save one, Russia. It remains 
the one absolute, autocratic despotism with 
power. Its fleet has failed it at the 
moment of need. Despotism and the sea 
in all ages go ill together. No despotic 
power ever won a great naval victory. 
The Russian army will be facing its test as 
these lines are read. By a strange fate, 
not wholly accident, the most Asiatic of 
civilized armies is arrayed against the one 
Asiatic free state. 

Defeat may, after all, be more fruitful to 
Russia than victory. The Crimean war 
brought the emancipation of the serf. 
Had not a nihilist bomb torn Alexander II 
limb from limb, the project for local self- 
government on his desk, waiting his sign 
manual, would have become law. The 
struggle now in progress may bring self-rule 
for the Zemstvo, or provincial assembly, 
and open elementary education in Russia. 
The Russian army is twice the size of 
Japan's army. Japan has almost twice as 
many children in elementary schools as 
Russia. It is by schools rather than 
armies that modern wars are won. 






by Harold Bolce 

It has been pointed out in a previous 
article that the nation which manages to 
secure the greater part of the commerce 
of the Pacific will have control of what 
must inevitably become the leading trade 
of the world, since it deals with two-thirds 
of the world's population, dwelling in lands 
of the richest possible natural resources. 
It has been set forth, moreover, that such 
commercial dominion will crown the nation 
that enjoys it with the sovereign power of 
the earth, America has as much interest 
in the shiftings and evolutions of empire in 
the Far East as has any of the nations of 
Asia or Europe. The control of Chinese 
trade is the real prize at stake in the 
Eastern struggle. 

The awakening of China is the most 
important commercial development of 
our time. The modern movement in 
that empire has already acquired such 
momentum that the whole commercial 
world is interested. Two phases of devel- 
opment in that country are as significant, 
in determining Chinese destiny, as the 
march of armies. One is the establish- 

ment of modern schools and the reaching 
out for Western learning ; the other is the 
beginning in earnest of the era of railway 
construction and the installation of river 
steamers upon the vast waterways of the 

When the Imperial Court of China 
issued an edict directing that a special 
railway line be built to convey the emperor 
on his pilgrimage to the Western Tombs, 
it was clear that the ancient prejudice in 
China against modern innovations was be- 
ginning to pass away. Activities directed 
by progressive Chinese officials soon con- 
firmed the belief that China was entering 
the railway age. 

Before American capital could be in- 
voked to gain control over the thousands 
of miles of projected lines in that empire, 
China became the storm-centre of the 
world. Torn by rebellion and harassed 
all along its borders, and even within its 
lawful confines, by ambitious powers of both 
Europe and Asia, the Celestial Kingdom 
seemed so insecure a field for the invest- 
ment of capital that the inauguration of 



The Booklovers Magazine 


China's great industrial career passed into 
the hands of men whose governments are 
disposed to safeguard the Asiatic operations 
of its citizens. 

Had America taken the lead in the inter- 
national adjudication of China's problems, 
the construction of its vast projected rail- 
way system, the exploitation of its great 
mines of gold, coal, and antimony, the 
building and managing of its factories, and 
the introduction of steam vessels upon 
its rivers would today be under the direc- 
tion of American energy and American 

China was anxious to liave America take 
the lead in these matters. Despite our 
rigid exclusion laws against Chinese citi- 
zens, China has a warm regard for the 
United States. Taught by centuries of 
inheritance to look with contempt upon 
the people of alien nations, and up to the 
time of recent treaties referring to them in 
official documents and dispatches as " bar- 
barians," China voluntarily made an excep- 
tion of the United States. "The reason 
was," said a Chinese official, "that the 
moral strength of the American people 
and their principles of commercial honor 
appealed to the Chinese. It made us 
aware, too," he added, " that these ideals 
may be associated with modern methods." 

American residents who have spent 
many years in China say that the moral 
dignity of the Chinese people as a whole, 
and particularly of the commercial classes, 
must not be overlooked if one would under- 
stand the principle that has made that 
nation great throughout many centuries. 
" For years we have heard of China's 
weakness and of its impending collapse," 
says President Edmund J. James, of North- 
western University. "What I should like 
to know, and I think what many thought- 
ful Americans would be glad to find out, 
is the secret of China's strength." The 
question was submitted to a Chinese states- 
man. ' China was great for centuries," 
he replied, " because it founded its acts on 
the precepts of Confucius and Lao-tsze. 
In evil later days came opium to degrade the 
lowly, and intrigue to corrupt the high ; 

as a result, China struggles with trouble. 
Now, however, as we behold the begin- 
nings of dismemberment, the best men of 
our empire are pledged to reform. If 
China passes through its present crisis it 
will emerge not only a modern nation, 
but one reconstructed on its original ideals 
of honor." 

With amiable but penetrating satire 
Wu Ting-Fang, while Minister at Wash- 
ington, observed that for ages the word of 
a Chinese merchant was accepted as a 
bond. His verbal promise to pay was 
sacred and sufficient. " But we are pro- 
gressing," said this statesman. " Since 
our contact with Western civilization we 
no longer conduct business in that way; 
we demand the obligation in writing now- 
a-days." The arraignment is less search- 
ing than it seems. Mr. Frank A. Vander- 
lip, formerly Assistant Secretary of the 
Treasury, and now a leading official in one 
of the great New York banks, declares 
that the chief requisite for success in Wall 
Street is absolute, unquestioned integrity. 
" Let there develop a single spot on a 
man's financial honor," he added, "and 
he might as well close up his office in that 
intense business centre." 

That gospel is practised and preached 
throughout America. The exceptions to 
the prevailing code are made by the men 
who become, sooner or later, business 
pariahs. It was this element of commer- 
cial probity in America that awakened the 
trust of the Chinese, and the willingness 
to give the United States first chance in 
the creation of modern China. 

Inasmuch as the exploitation of China, 
with its four hundred or more millions and 
its prodigious undeveloped resources, is the 
central speculation in the Pacific struggle 
— it rises to the same international interest 
whether the awakening is to be an evolu- 
tion of its people, or whether the modern- 
ization of the empire is to be worked out 
by alien agencies. For two things are 
obvious: first, that a development, giving 
promise of a revolution in the world's com- 
merce, has begun; and second, that Rus- 
sia, Japan, England, Germany, France, and 


The Booklovers Magazine 








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the United States are vitally con- 
cerned in gaining trade concessions 
or control in this marvelous land, 
when it shall have become rejuvenated 
and transformed. 

The percentagesof the share taken 
by each country in the total tonnage 
entered and cleared at Chinese ports 
during the years 1882, 1892, and 1902 
are very instructive. In 1882 the 
share taken by the United Kingdom 
was over 62 per cent. In 1902 it 
was 50 per cent. Japan's share in 
1882 was a trifle over i per cent. 
In 1902 it had leaped to 14 per cent. 
Germany in the same period developed 
its share from 5 to 13 per cent. 

In 1882 the proportion of China's 
trade carried under the American flag 
was97-iooof I percent. In twenty 
years it has grown exactly 3-iooof I 
per cent. Today the Stars and 
Stripes float over but I per cent, of 
the total cargoes of the Celestial 
Kingdom. That, of course, does 
not represent America's total trade 
with China, for much of our com- 
merce is conducted by ships of foreign 
register, but it is an instructive reve- 
lation, and one which statesmen and 
shippers alike are pondering gravely. 

The persistent development of 
Germany's advance in the Far East 
is a theme much discussed in Ameri- 
can business centres. The commer- 
cial leaders of this country realize that 
China, the one remaining empire 
whose markets await the adventurous 
agents of modern houses, is becoming 
(jcrmanized as well as Russianized. 
In Siberia, Manchuria, and in many 
parts of China, the leading merchants 
are German. This fact has greatly 
impressed recent travelers in those 

The great and perhaps the only 
reason why the United States has 
not established itself more securely in 
the field of Asia is that, thus far. it 
has had abuiulant outlet for its 
energies in the expanding West. 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Germany, on the other hand, has 
been forced to send its commercial 
legions round the world. Fhere are 
modern gasoline launches on Lake 
Galilee; they are German. Caravans 
of camels halt to let modern railway 
trains pass through Palestine; these 
lines are financed by German capital. 
And now, with the slow and certain 
advance of Slavic dominion along the 
Pacific, is proceeding the German 
commercial invasion of the Far East, 
a movement fraught with perhaps 
more international importance than 
the American trade conquest of west- 
ern Europe. Side by side with the 
German, and impelled by the same 
national necessity for expansion, is 
the aggressive shipper and merchant 
of Japan. England, starting out 
vigorously with the same motive, 
has developed the imperial instinct 
which has secured for her the com- 
mercial mastery of the world. 

The total imports of China for the 
year 1902 amounted to $198,000,000, 
of which nearly two-thirds were from 
Asiatic countries. A large part of 
the imports from Hongkong, how- 
ever, came originally from Western 
countries. (jreat Britain supplied 
18 per cent., the United States 9^2 
per cent., and all of continental 
Europe, including Russia, only 6 per 
cent, of the imports into China. The 
United States, therefore, has a larger 
commercial interest in the afifairs of 
China than any continental European 
nation. As a Pacific power, how- 
ever, we are entitled to a much larger 
share of import trade than 10 per cent. 

In the awakened activities of 
Japan, there is an element which 
is of grave commercial significance : 
that kingdom is sending to America 
almost twice as much as it is pur- 
chasing from us. According to the 
figures of the Japanese Department 
of Finance, the total value of com- 
modities exported from Japan to the 
United States in 1902 was over 








































































































The BoOKLOVhRS Magazine 


$40,000,000, while the value of imports 
from this country was less than $24,300,000. 

On the other hand, Japan's trade with 
Great Britain shows a marked balance on 
England's side of the ledger, the imports 
to Japan from Great Britain alone exceed- 
ing our sales in the Sunrise Kingdom, 
while the combined imports from England 
and British India into Japan aggregate in 
value more than $50,000,000. Yet in 
1902 Japan succeeded in selling to England 
only ?.8,soo,ooo worth of goods. 

In other worils, Japan is selling the bulk 
of its products in America, and taking the 
greater part of the money realized from 
these sales anil spending it in the markets 
of Klngland. Surprising as it may seem, 
the figures of the Bureau of Statistics of 
the Department of Commerce and Labor 
show that we sold more goods in 1902 to 
Cuba than we did to either China or 

It is plain that America has her Oriental 
commercial victories yet to win. Even if 

there should be no further carvings of 
Asia among European powers it is obvious 
that, to secure anything like commercial 
preeminence in these far Pacific waters, 
the business world of the United States 
must pursue something more than a policy 
of chance. And when it is realized that 
what trade we have with the Far East is 
threatened by the aggressions of other 
nations, it is plain that a stirring policy is 
necessary to secure for our Republic its 
proper status as a sovereign power of 
the new Pacific. 

Although it is through the commercial 
pioneering of only a few big-brained busi- 
ness leaders of America that the United 
States is making headway at present in 
the Far East, the hold the opportunities 
of the Orient have upon the minds of 
Western people, particularly of its farmers, 
cannot be imagined by the inhabitants of 
the Atlantic States. 

Western railroad presidents share that 
feeling, and point out that they would not 

Thh Booklovers MA(,AZINE 


be able to run trans-contiiicntal freight 
trains at a profit but for the fact that they 
now carry loaded cars in both directions. 
" For example," said President Hill, " the 
operating expenses in hauling a car between 
St. Paul and Puget Sound is sixty-four 
cents per hundred miles, or $256 for 
the round trip of four thousand miles. If 
loaded westward with flour at twenty-five 
cents per hundred pounds, and averaging 
thirty tons per car, the car earns on its 
outward journey $150. If on its return 
the car is loaded with twenty tons of 
lumber at forty cents per hundred pounds, 
it earns on its round trip for one car 
$310. Deducting the operating expenses 
of $256, the profit is S54. 

" If, however," he continued, " the car 
were loaded only on its westward bound 
trip, and were hauled east empty, the loss 
to the company would be $106; and if 
hauled westward empty, and loaded on its 
trip east, the loss would be $96." 

Inasmuch as the railroads and the people 
of the West alike base their larger future 
on their prospects in the Orient, there has 
grown up a reciprocal feeling between the 
people and the transportation kings which 
it is difficult for an Eastern man to under- 
stand. Railway presidents have held farm- 
ers' meetings, the former setting forth the 
operating expenses of railways, the latter 
showing what it costs to raise a bushel of 
wheat. These unique conferences have 
brought about reduced freight rates ; and 
today many farmers in the Northwest sur- 
prise the traveler by acknowledging that 
they owe their prosperity to the railroads. 
Some of these plainsmen will even supply 
statistics to attest the benefit derived from 
the railway merger which the government 
has so strongly opposed. 

Right or wrong, the people of the pros- 
perous West are to a great extent in accord 
with present railway policies. It is an 
anomalous condition. Communities that 



Photograph by "Rau 


The Booklovers Magazine 

were uncompromisingly populistic a few 
years ago arc today sturdily defending the 
corporations they recently denounced. 

A railway president complained gener- 
ally about the opposition now directed 
from Federal sources against the merged 
companies. Getting to the Pacific end of 
the subject, he said : 

" They want us to publish our rates, 
with the understanding that we are not to 
change them without several days' notice. 
That would mean that the big carrying 
lines would be at the mercy of tramp 
steamers, which could make a slightly 
reduced rate to capture some special cargo, 
and get ofif with it to the Orient before we 
could legally adjust our schedules to meet 
the competition. It would be giving every 
advantage to the tramp vessel at the ex- 
pense of the companies who have expended 
millions in establishing regular lines. We 
have," he added with some warmth, "been 
fighting the elements ahead of us and 
ignorance behind us." 

" If the Government should insist upon 
the publication of those rates, what would 
the big companies do ?" he was asked. 

" We should be forced to take our fleets 
out of commission," he replied, " and sail 
them under a foreign flag." 

He went on to insist that the lawmakers 
at Washington had failed to grasp the 
splendid opportunities in the Orient, and 
therefore were blind to the big purposes of 
railway combinations. "Russia's pres- 
ence in Asia, of course, makes our battle 
harder," he said, " but our real obstacle is 
the opposition at Washington." 

" Do you share the fear, then," he was 
asked, " that America will lose her chance 
to be the commercial master of Asia ?" 

His reply was quick and emphatic : 
" America has already lost it." 

That is the statement of a millionaire 
American railway king. Other large 
operators, equally interested in the Orien- 
tal future for our trade, are disposed to 
regard his views as too pessimistic, and 
superinduced, perhaps, by impatience at 
what he believes to be interference with 
the ambitious international programs of 

amalgamated railways and ocean fleets. 
They agree with him, however, that the 
gravest possible conditions confront Ameri- 
can commerce in Eastern Asia. Their 
agents in that field report constantly by 
letter and cable in regard to the situation ; 
and as a result some of the big companies 
are as thoroughly informed concerning 
significant national movements in Asia as 
are the departments of state and the 
foreign offices of the various powers 
involved in the struggle. 

An incident of great importance, which 
took place recently in one of the treaty 
ports of China, illustrates how closely the 
commercial and political tendencies of the 
Far East are being watched by some of 
these large business houses in America. 

An eminent Belgian engineer was black- 
balled in one of the leading clubs of this 
Chinese city. To be denied fellowship in 
one of these institutions in Asia means 
more than a loss of social prestige, inas- 
much as extensive commercial operations 
in the Far East radiate from club life. 
There was nothing against the personal 
standing of the Belgian. His antecedents 
were of the best, his achievements were 
recognized, and his own character above 

Forthwith one of the largest companies 
in the United States, through representa- 
tives in China, sought the reason of the 
club's blacklisting of this engineer. The 
company, to make certain of the causes, 
even invoked in its investigations the 
assistance of diplomats representing one 
of the leading powers. The report dis- 
closing the whole animus of the club has 
reached America. It is most sensational 
in its character, and gives promise of rising 
to the dignity of an historical document. 

Some time ago American capital secured 
a concession to build a railway from Han- 
kow to Canton, a distance similar to that 
from Chicago to New \'ork. The popu- 
lation of Canton is i ,6oo,000, and Hankow 
has about i. 000,000. Between these two 
centres dwell a hundred million inhabitants. 
The estimated cost of constructing the 
railway is thirty million dollars, and it has 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Phetotraph by 


been regarded as one of the most promising 
investments of capital in Asia. American 
engineers surveyed the Hne, and American 
contractors inaugurated its construction. 
From this point the report in question, 
which is signed by an eminent official, 
takes up a series of transactions, the cul- 
mination of which will challenge the 
attention both of our own government 
and of some of the nations of Europe. 

In substance the report states that the 
Belgians, who are now building the Ameri- 
can line, are in reality agents of the 
Russians; that Russia has secured, or is 
securing, control of all the Chinese rail- 
ways; and that through these strategic 
and commercial lines of communication it 
is far better equipped to establish sove- 
reignty over China than the outside world 
imagines. It is believed, therefore, that it 
was either a knowledge or suspicion of 
this that led the influential business club 
to deny membership to the Belgian 

Not long afterwards the Peking Foreign 
Office, the Wai Wu Pu, interested in 
building the Peking, Chang Kia Kou 

railway Hne, instructed one of its repre- 
sentatives to negotiate with wealthy 
Chinese citizens for the necessary capital. 
In the presence of political uncertainties 
in China they hesitated, whereupon a 
Chinese banker offered to furnish the 
capital to carry out the project. The 
report states that investigation disclosed 
that he was an agent in the service of 
Russian interests. 

An addendum to the report explains 
that the original concession to Belgian 
capitalists to build the road from Peking 
to Canton was given to quiet national 
jealousies, Belgium having little interest 
in the contentions of the Far East. No 
provision, however, was made against the 
possibility of the Belgians surrendering 
their control to Russia. The same con- 
dition has prevailed in regard to the 
American-Belgian line from Canton to 

" It may," concludes the report, " be 
safely concluded that Russia has more at 
stake in fighting the Manchurian question 
than is generally supposed. Her conten- 
tion in carrying her trans-Siberian railroad, 

2t— -If ? 










The Booklovers Magazine 


in conjunction with the Chinese Eastern 
Railway, through to Port Arthur, was 
ostensibly to secure an eastern outlet 
open to navigation at al' seasons of the 
year, which may be considered but a 
reasonable demand. It will, however, 
now be seen that the Port Arthur exten- 
sion is but the thin edge of the wedge, 
and that, when an agreement eventually 
comes to cover the present Manchurian 
difficulties, the world will suddenly realize 
that the entire trunk railroads from North 
to South China are virtually under Russian 

What is of significant interest to the 
United States, aside from the grave inter- 
national problem this document unfolds, 
is that such an important revelation should 
be secured to the people of this country 
through the medium of an American 
business corporation. It is a timely ex- 
pression of the extreme solicitude on the 
part of great American interests in regard 
to our future commercial opportunities in 

The attitude of the great mill owners 
and important flour shippers in the 
United States throws a revealing light 
upon the situation. The leading flour 
man on the Pacific Coast, who dominates 
the traffic in all wheat products Orient- 
bound, consented, in an interview, to fur- 
nish figures and a general outline of the 
outlook, which will be a surprise to the 
majority of the people of America. He 
showed very clearly that the manufactur- 
ers, not the flour-mill men of the United 
States, are the people to be concerned in 
the exploitation of Asia by other nations. 

He stated that the idea of supplying a 
developed, industrial China with all the 
flour that nation will require is the wildest 
kind of talk. It is not because flour is 
now a luxury in that country, and that 
only Chinese engaged in business can 
afford to buy it. Laborers working for ten 
cents a day cannot, of course, buy flour at 
ten dollars a barrel. But it is believed 
that, with the termination of the present 
international turmoil in the Far East, there 
will take place an industrial awakening in 

Asia such as the world has not before seen. 
When the thousands of miles of inaugur- 
ated Chinese railroads are pushed to com- 
pletion rates of wages will advance, an 
exchange of commodities will follow, and 
the general prosperity will be so stimulated 
that the common people of that empire 
can afiford to buy not only flour but all 
kinds of products of advanced civilization. 

The strong point made by the flour-mill 
magnate in question is that, when any 
considerable number of the millions of 
China shall call for flour, the entire 
wheat-growing area of the world will not 
be sufficient to supply the demand. " Even 
if all Japan should become a flour-eating 
people," he said, "the whole available 
supply of the Pacific Coast would provide 
this commodity for only twenty per cent, 
of the population of that kingdom." 

There is likelihood, too, that a greater 
portion of the inhabitants of Japan will 
acquire the habit of using flour. It was 
represented to the Mikado by his ablest 
advisers that, in modeling the Japanese 
army on the latest military standard of the 
modern powers, the important matter of 
diet had been overlooked. Not only had 
all modern nations a standing army, but 
the food of these formidable hosts consisted 
in great measure of wheat products. Rice- 
eating regiments, it was feared, might not 
be able successfully to contend with a foe 
whose sinews were built of wheat. Japan, 
to be up-to-date, must maintain not only a 
big, well equipped, and well drilled military 
force, but its soldiers, like the men of arms 
of other lands, must eat flour. So an 
imperial edict went forth recently ; and 
now every soldier in the armies of Japan 
gets a daily ration of Oregon, Washington, 
or California flour. This ukase of the 
Emperor will mark the beginning of a 
very important chapter in commercial his- 
tory, for this mandate on the part of the 
Mikado has already greatly stimulated the 
demand in the kingdom for wheat pro- 
ducts, the people being alert to keep 
abreast of whatever is decided to be 
progress along modern lines. 

American flour men call attention, 
















The Booklovers Magazine 


moreover, to the fact that Japan, both 
commercially and educationally, is exerting 
a great influence over China. Japanese 
drummers are penetrating everywhere in 
China, and are spreading a contagious 
desire for all kinds of western products. 
It is expected in America that the Chinese 
demand for flour will increase out of all 
proportion to the increase in the yield of 
the wheat field of the United States. 

" Thus," said a miller and shipper in 
Portland, " we are not alarmed as to the 
future markets for flour." He repeated 
the assertion of one of his colleagues that 
there would not be fields enough on the 
planet to furnish flour to a modernized 
China. " The future of flour," said he, 
"is secure, so far as a sale for it is con- 
cerned. The only alarm for it that should 
be indulged in is that the supply will run 
short. If Chinese agents, at any time in 
the future of industrial China, succeed by 
shrewd buying in getting control of the 
season's supply of wheat in the world, 
there would be in all civilized lands a bread 
famine of the most disastrous character." 

Inasmuch as a large part of the roseate 
hopes of the general outlook toward the 
Orient has consisted of the promise in the 
Far East's growing demand for flour, the 
disclosures of the leaders in this industry 
that the future must concern itself not 
with the Asiatic demand for this product, 
but with the American supply, indicate 
that the real interest of the United States 
in the opportunity in Asia lies in the com- 
mercial disposal of such of its commodities 
as have no limit in their production. 

This brings the discussion back to the 
tide-lands of the Pacific, and to the fac- 
tories to be built thereon. It will surprise 
many eastern readers to learn that hun- 
dreds of acres of mud flats, which were 
considered valuable only as an occa- 
sional field for the casual clam-digger, have 
become in the past three years immensely 
important as sites for manufacturing plants, 
and have been seized upon by the most 
adventurous agents of big corporations. 
From the foothills, a few miles eastward, 
trains of flat cars are hauling gravel and 

rock by the thousand tons. Many miles 
of hitherto worthless shore, along western 
sounds and bays, are to be so filled that 
deep-sea craft may anchor at the new 
American factory line. 

For manufactured stuffs, the flour men 
point out, unlike cereal products, may be 
turned out in practically infinite quantity. 
The bigger the market, the bigger the 
plant. There is little danger that China 
— by the awakening demands for modern 
goods — will create a shoe famine, a dearth 
of cotton goods, or cause the rest of 
mankind to shiver while it corners the 
woolen garments of the world. But, when 
these multiplying western factories turn 
out products vastly in excess of the Amer- 
ican capacity to consume, where will the 
ships, that are already beginning to crowd 
the Pacific Coast harbors, carry these 
cargoes, if not to the Orient ? 

It is impossible of belief that America 
will, in the long run, permit itself to be 
shut out of Asia, or that it will be content 
to remain a second-rate Pacific power. 
Deep in the thought of the people of this 
nation is the conviction that the awaken- 
ing of Asia must mean a new commerce for 
greater America; and yet, serious business 
men point out, in that confidence of our 
ultimate trade expansion in the trans- 
Pacific field lies a grave element of danger, 
inasmuch as it obscures the necessity for 
immediate action. "It is true that the 
trade of the United States with the Far 
East is increasing," said an American ship- 
per, "but not with the momentum that 
characterizes the American occupation of 
other fields. Opposed to that lack of 
determined purpose are the vast and deeply 
laid programs of Russia and Japan." 

That this nation will be called upon ulti- 
mately to display fearlessness and strength 
is the sober expectation of many American 
business men. It has to deal in the Pacific 
problem not with a moribund Spain, but 
with two mighty nations moved by im- 
measurable ambitions. "Russia," said 
Pobedonostefl to Senator Beveridge, 
" Russia is no state; Russia is a world," 
In the opinion of numerous students of 

The Booklovers Magazine 


Asiatic conditions the question as to what 
nation is to be paramount in the far Pacific 
has already been answered. They are 
convinced that Japan has begun its career 
as master of that sea. They set forth 
many reasons why the commerce of Asia 
will be monopolized finally by Japan. It 
has coal fields, oil wells, and endless water 
power. Labor is cheap, abundant, and 
readily controlled. Japan has already begun 
to be a manufacturing nation, and aside 
from the fact that it can produce articles 
at less cost than other countries, its geo- 
graphical position enables it to distance all 
other nations in the commercial race for 
the markets of China. Moreover, Japan 
is vigilantly at work now, securing the field 
and studying the wants of these awakening 

A glance at the statistical table ot Japan's 
trade with China, in 1902, will reveal the 
tendency of this Pacific commerce. The 
Chinese official statistics show that in 

1902 the exports to China from the United 
States amounted in value to $19,000,000. 
The same report shows that the exports 
from Japan to China in that year aggre- 
gated in value $22,265,000. In round 
numbers, therefore, Japan sold over three 
million, two hundred thousand dollars 
worth more goods to China in 1902 than 
the United States did. 

It would appear that what was needed, 
in the solution of the problem of trade 
supremacy on Pacific waters, was not so 
much an awakening of Asia as an awaken- 
ing of America. 

" Beyond and above all considerations 
afilecting the present or the future of 
American trade in Manchuria and in the 
eighteen provinces of China south of the 
Great Wall," said Mr. John Foord, recog- 
nized as an authority on Far-Eastern prob- 
lems, " is the larger question of the position 
of the United States as one of the great 
powers of the Pacific, with a longer coast 

Courteiy of the Philadelphia Commercial Museums 


The Booklovers Magazine 


line on that ocean than any other country, 
and with an interest in the development of 
its commerce closer and more vital than 
that of any of the other industrial nations. 
That interest antedated our acquisition of 
the Philippine Islands ; but, when the ques- 
tion of what we should do with these new 
possessions was under discussion, the argu- 
ment for their retention was based mainly 
on the ground that they were the centre 
of a great trade area. We needed the 
Philippine Islands, it was said, to be in 
position to take advantage of the great 
trade development that would sooner or 
later occur in China. But if the con- 
tinued possession of the Philippines is to 
be justified on the ground that they offer 
the most favorable position for talcing a 
share in exploiting the trade of Asia, then 
it ought to be clear that, having adopted 
such a policy, we cannot afford to allow 
ourselves to be shut out from the Asiatic 
continent after we have succeeded in 
establishing ourselves, at an enormous 
cost, in this newly acquired and highly 
advantageous trade station." 

The appearance of the United States 
upon the islands of the Pacific has had, as 
is well known, a marked effect upon the 
plans of rulers and the counsels of states- 
men throughout the world. And now, 
as the result of an expedition under the 
direction of the United States Govern- 
ment, a geographical discovery has just 
been made in the Pacific, the value of 
which both commercially and strategic- 
ally, in the ultimate contest of the nations 
for dominion in those waters, cannot be 
overestimated. In the opinion of naval 
experts, nothing in the explorations of the 
past hundred years equals it in importance. 
The discovery is that in the long chain 
of Aleutian Islands, stretching westward 
from the Alaskan mainland almost across 
the Pacific, there is a succession of har- 
bors; that they are safe and open through- 
out the year; that they are unobstructed 
by rocks ; and that the channel to some 
of them is so deep and commodious that 
half a dozen fleets could enter them 

In the event of war, should a squadron 
flying the flag of the United States start 
for Chinese waters, it could stop every 
night in a safe American anchorage until 
it reached Attu Island, nearly four thou- 
sand miles west of Puget Sound. Steam- 
ing from that distant island-outpost of the 
United States our men-of-war could, within 
a short run, reach the centre of the con- 
tested seas of Asia. The ownership of an 
archipelago reaching far outward toward 
Asia, and indented with many convenient 
harbors, is a national asset of incalculable 
future value. 

For many years there has been vague 
knowledge of the Aleutian chain. Har- 
bors here and there were indicated, but 
formidable rocks were charted at their 
mouths; and as there has not been until 
recently any inducement to merchant ves- 
sels to venture into these uninviting ports, 
the mythical barriers remained on the maps. 
It was in line with the general national 
policy of cooperation in the commercial 
evolution of the West that the revenue 
cutter service, under the direction of the 
Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, was 
invoked to explore the hitherto compara- 
tively unknown Aleutian chain. It was 
believed that the expedition would result 
in the finding of many facts in regard to 
depths and shore lines, of value to nautical 
science ; but that it would lead to a dis- 
covery of lasting international significance, 
and would mark the cruise as one of the 
great geographical undertakings of modern 
times, was undreamed of when the trip 
was planned. 

This historic voyage, just completed, 
was made by the revenue cutter. Man- 
ning, under the command of Captain 
McLellan. As the result of a painstaking 
and scientific exploration of every section 
of the shore line of this remarkable series 
of islands, the entire archipelago is to be 
remapped. Some of the islands are now 
down in the wrong degrees of latitude. 
What were considered mere rockbound 
curvings of coast line were found to be 
entrances to perfect harbors. Imaginary 
rocks, that menaced mariners, will have to 










































































































































































































































































The Booklovers Magazine 


be omitted from the reconstructed charts. 
It is, in fact, a new bridge of islands the 
Treasury Department has given to the 
United States, and the role this far-reach- 
ing archipelago, with its mild climate and 
inviting harbors, is certain to play in the 
future maritime and naval history of the 
world will undoubtedly make it one of the 
most valuable possessions of the nation. 

The Aleutian Islands are more west than 
north. Attu, the westernmost island, is 
in latitude only fifty-three degrees north, 
which is eight degrees south of the 
northern boundaries of the British Isles. 
The island of Attu :s almost due west 
from the northern point of Maine. 
There is a distance of 7,500 miles be- 
tween these two extremes of American 
territory. In fact, when the sun sets on 
Attu Island, the day begins to break 
in Maine. The island is fifty miles long, 
and has an excellent harbor. The land is 
fertile, and the natives already cultivate 
turnips, potatoes, and other vegetables. It 
is the theory of ethnologists that the Aleu- 
tian chain, in prehistoric times, was densely 
populated. Recently, in some of the caves 
of the islands, mummies have been found, 
and with these bodies were spears and 
other implements of a much more finished 
character than those employed by the pres- 
ent inhabitants. The supposition is that 
this forgotten race had arrived at a higher 
state of development than the survivors of 
today enjoy. I his is interesting as an 
indication that the archipelago is fitted to 
support a far greater population than that 
now located on the islands. 

Captain McLellan found the streams of 
Attu and of the other islands crowded 
with salmon. On Buldir Island, in fifty- 
two degrees and thirty minutes north, he 
found new fur-seal rookeries. That this 
discovery may prove to be of great finan- 
cial value may be realized when it is con- 
sidered that the revenue from the rookeries 
of the Pribilof Islands has amounted thus 
far to over $50,000,000. On Umnak 
Island the revenue cutter steamed into a 
harbor two miles long and three-fourths of 
a mile wide. 

So strongly convinced are some of the 
alert men of the northwest that the 
Aleutians are now destined to assume great 
importance in the afifairs of the Pacific, 
that a company has been formed to col- 
onize the archipelago. Wharves and store- 
houses are to be built, and trading-stations 
established. Stock raising is to be begun 
first on Akun Island. There, it is esti- 
mated, fifty thousand head of cattle can 
find abundant pasture the year through. 

It is claimed that, on account of the 
mollifying influence of the Japan current, 
the Aleutian Islands have a more desirable 
climate than any part of the Atlantic sea- 
board north of Cape Hatteras. Aside from 
stock-raising, general agriculture is to be 
inaugurated. It is stated that copper, gold, 
oil, and coal are found on the islands, and 
that there is a great abundance of water 
power, as in Japan. One town, called 
Jarvis, has already been started in Lost 
Harbor. The problem of transportation 
will not have to be solved, as in the interior 
of Alaska, for steamers to and from the 
Orient, Siberia, St. Michael, and Nome 
now pass daily within a few miles of some 
of the best harbors in the archipelago. 

Without consulting a globe, or following 
the ocean track of trans-Pacific steamers, 
it is difficult to comprehend the vast future 
importance of these rediscovered Aleutians. 
It is a shorter distance between Oriental 
and Pacific Coast points by way of the 
great north circle route, which skirts the 
southern shores of the Aleutian Islands, 
than it is straight across the Pacific. All 
the American, British, and Japanese vessels 
from Puget Sound to Yokohama, and some 
even from San Francisco, select the north- 
ern route. In fact, the few inhabitants of 
the Aleutian Islands, now harvesting the 
first fortunes from this archipelago, report 
that it is almost a daily occurrence to sight 
steamers moving between Japan and 

Maps issued by the hydrographic office 
of the United States reveal that a straight 
line drawn from San Francisco to Yoko- 
hama measures 4,791 miles, while the 
circular path between the points running 
























































The Booklovers Magazine 


just south of the Aleutian chain is only 
4,536 miles in length. A straight line 
from Port Townsend to Yokohama is 
4.575 rniles long, while the way by the 
Aleutian circle is only 4,240 miles. Simi- 
larly the trip from San Francisco to Manila, 
by way of Midway Islands and Guam, is 
6,578 miles, while the more northerly 
voyage under the Aleutian Islands is 
6,241 miles. 

It will thus be seen that this Aleutian 
archipelago is along the chosen path of 
Pacific commerce. The fact that, as 
fishermen point out, the future cod- 
fisheries of the world will be conducted 
along the Aleutian Islands would alone 
make them immensely valuable, and would 
insure their occupation and settlement by 
a hardy race of men. 

These islands have a still further value. 
Concurrent with the shore line explora- 
tions conducted by Captain McLellan and 
his nautical experts in the revenue service, 
Professor Trevor Kincaid, of the Univer- 
sity of Washington, an alert Western sci- 
entist, has been making a study of the 

valleys and mountain slopes of the islands. 
He first became interested in Alaska at the 
time of the Harriman expedition. As a 
result of this voyage of scientific discovery 
he amazed the entomological world by the 
bewildering collection of insects he brought 
out of Alaska, thousands of them being 
species that depend for existence on the 
nectar of blossoms. It was a revelation 
not only of the presence of unnumbered 
flower-hunting hymenoptera, coleoptera, 
and lepidoptera in Alaska, but incidentally 
it called the attention of scientific men to 
the fact that Alaska, instead of being a 
wilderness of perpe